


the Guardian

by Lynxrider



Series: Hack [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV, Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Realities, Alternate Universe, Anxiety, Child Abuse, Dysphoria, Families of Choice, Guardian Angels, Haphephobia, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Cruz, Kidnapping, Martial Arts, Matthew Cruz's A+ parenting, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Prompto loves a fictional character, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 46,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22469413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynxrider/pseuds/Lynxrider
Summary: Prompto gently slides a finger down the soft, worn cover of the book in his trembling hands. This was it, the book that held the heart of someone he dearly loved–someone he couldn't bear to lose. And yet, between its innocent covers held the very secrets that might take him away from Prompto forever. But this wasn't about him. With a shaky breath, he flipped open the first page and began to read...Jason Cruz knew from a young age that he was different. Relationships didn't come easy, speaking his mind even less so. He'd resigned himself to a life of solitude and he'd accepted it, welcomed it even if only to save himself the pain of disappointment. That is until his path crossed violently with another of the same heart, something awakening in Jason that he had long ago suppressed: the desire to put someone else’s needs before his own. Perhaps what completion he could not find in a romantic partner, he could experience as the guardian of a young man who would forever change his perception of love.
Relationships: Background, Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum/Jason Cruz, Prompto Argentum/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Hack [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/977226
Comments: 29
Kudos: 18





	1. Warning

**Author's Note:**

> Hey fam, welcome to the Guardian. For those of you who found this fic randomly, it is a side-story to my FFXV fix-it fic Hack and mostly takes place on Earth with a bunch of OCs. If you're here for the foursome tag or are looking for a Prompto-centric story, Hack is what you want ;) If you are interested in an original work or are carrying over from Hack, then yay! Here's some more Jason! Enjoy! I'll probably be posting this once a week as I finalize the edits. Any thoughts would be appreciated, you know that makes my day ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note before we start: this is set a week after Argentum would have spirited Jason away. Also, there will be a few inconsistencies/redundancies that are necessary to make this a standalone narrative, so try not to sweat the details too much ;) Enjoy!

Jason grunted as he hit the ground. Sweat clung to his skin, sending him sliding across the surface beneath him, several meters from where he’d been thrown brutally from his feet. Every muscle screamed at him to give up, joints begging him to stop the abuse, strung out and overexerted. But Jason wouldn’t, ignoring the protests in his body in favor of the heady adrenaline coursing through his veins and the endorphins crowding just beneath the pain. He lived for it, an addictive drug that gave him focus and obliterated all the worries that would drag him down in all other corners of his life. 

Another man, broad in the shoulder and sturdy as a truck, waited patiently as Jason got to his feet. It wouldn’t be sportsmanlike, after all, to kick someone while he’s down.  _ What a gentleman _ , Jason thought sarcastically. Better for him anyway, even if it irked his pride that he was being looked down upon by the more experienced fighter. He wasn’t about to lose, though, not yet. 

Levering himself to his feet, Jason used the reprieve freely given to catch his breath, allowing his counterpart to do the same. He could do this. He could do this. Just one more push. Chuck, his opponent, was just as tired as Jason. They’d been sparring for the better part of ten minutes after a long day of training and it was beginning to wear on them both, though Jason had the distinct advantage of his youth on his side. It was significantly harder to keep up such a brutal pace at forty then it was at twenty-four, after all. 

Chuck eventually became impatient, making a soft huffing sound, and Jason stood up to his full, considerable height, brushing his long dark hair out of his eyes, sticky with sweat and pulled loose from its tie. Time to end this.

With the last dregs of his strength, Jason lunged suddenly, thinking to swipe his opponent from his feet before he could make another move. But the man was too wily, too experienced for such an obvious ploy. Jason yelped as he was once more pushed to the ground, barely avoiding slamming his face to the mat as the man wrenched his captured arm into a very uncomfortable position, effectively locking him down. Jason grunted, the air in his lungs deflating like his ego as he was pinned easily for the fourth time. 

“C’mon, kid, I haven’t got all day,” the older man chuckled breathlessly, amusement clear in his voice. He stood about a full foot shorter than Jason’s six feet, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t take the much younger man down with little effort, a fact Jason had long ago resigned himself to. Jason laughed, strained and not terribly surprised, tapping the floor in defeat. Even with ten years of martial arts experience under his belt, the veteran of twenty won the day, smiling toothily before releasing him. Jason groaned as his tensed muscles were released and the weight disappeared from his back, allowing him to breathe.

“Alright, you win this round,” Jason sighed, flopping down on the mat petulantly. 

“What else is new? How many times do I have to tell you that you leave your left side open before you get it into your thick head?” Chuck growled good-naturedly as he held a hand out to help Jason to his feet. 

Jason eyed the man with a smile, but didn’t take the offered hand, pushing himself up and grimacing at the smear of sweat he’d left on the mat. That’s what he gets for sparring with his shirt off. Now he was going to have to mop on top of everything else. “Yeah, yeah, I hear you.” 

“If you did, I wouldn’t have to wipe the floor with your beaner face every Saturday,” Chuck cajoled, withdrawing his hand with a roll of his eyes. 

“Shut it, gringo, you’re just jealous,” Jason flipped him off. 

Chuck barked a laugh before he moved to the side to snatch his towel off the surrounding hip-high wall separating the training area from the lobby. He and a few others still remained this evening, the dojo open for free training since all of the Saturday classes were over. It was getting late, though, and most everyone had already left. Jason could have closed the doors hours ago after the owner of the gym, Master Diaz, went home, but he didn’t mind, always down for some extra training. Especially if Chuck, one of the few people who could take him seriously in a fight and win, was around to spar. 

He was going to have to shut down in a few minutes if he wanted to get out of here before five o’clock traffic, though. He’d promised, after all, even if he would rather do  _ anything _ else. 

“Alright, guys,” Jason called, ignoring Ashley, one of the few women who bothered to train at this gym, who mean mugged him for not being politically correct. He winked at her, and she scowled playfully. “Clear out and hit the showers, I got places to be!” 

“We  _ would _ if someone would fix the showers,” Ashley accused. 

“Hey, I’m an instructor, not a plumber! Maybe if your long-ass armpit hair didn't get caught in the drain all the time…” Jason laughed as the much slighter woman flipped him off, not a strand of body hair in sight above the sleeve of her tank top. She was fastidious about that, despite always preaching that women shouldn’t have to shave just because that’s what the patriarchy preferred. 

“You coming tonight?” she asked instead of starting one of their frequent verbal spars.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Jason said with a small smile, though that couldn’t be further from the truth. She didn’t notice or maybe chose not to acknowledge the strain in his smile, tossing her boxing gloves into her bag. 

“That’s what I like to hear.” 

After a few more minutes, Jason found himself alone. His smile fell and he sighed, taking in the gym around him. The dojo was a wreck. The mats–blue and red foam puzzle pieces that served for a training floor–were covered in sweat and it reeked to high heaven, a familiar mixture of corn chip smell and B.O. The gear wrack had been knocked over, spilling sparring equipment and padded sticks all over the back room. Again. The kids from the little dragons class just couldn’t leave the shelves alone for some reason, and usually the place was so busy that he and Master D couldn’t quite manage everything, especially when they were both on the mat instructing. Jason considered for the hundredth time just buying more sturdy shelves for him, but the stalwart man refused to accept money from a ‘starving college brat’. Jason hadn’t been in college for over two years, but the irascible instructor refused to acknowledge that he was grown. He’d had been coming to this dojo since he was little more than a child and Master D would never let him forget it, though Jason now towered over him by several inches. 

He was right about one thing, though; Jason was dead broke. He barely got by with the money that Master D could afford to pay him. Still, he would take this lifestyle over the one he was born to any day. At least here, doing this, he was happy.

Despite the fact that Jason was dead tired, he smiled. It was a good tired, one born of doing something he loved. There was nothing more satisfying than the fatigue of a good workout, and even better, he’d lasted longer against Chuck than usual. He was improving. Either that, or the man was just getting old. 

Jason liked to think he was improving. 

Stretching his long, wired arms over his head, Jason sighed before scanning the floor for his hair tie. Seeing it a few feet away, he snatched it from where it had fallen earlier and tied back his shoulder-length black hair, the curls still clinging valiantly to the tanned skin of his neck. If he wanted to get out of here any time soon, he’d better get started. 

Even if he would rather stay here for the rest of the night destroying a punching bag than go where he was headed. 

To his surprise, the door tinkled, the little bell above the threshold swaying merrily as someone passed through. Jason straightened, the training knives in his hands nearly tumbling to the floor as he turned. He could have sworn he’d locked the door. 

“Hey,” he called. An older man walked inside and slowed to a stop in front of the barrier wall, taking a good look around. He was tall, nearly as tall as Jason, and slim with dark blond hair. He had his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, relaxed. “Uh, the dojo is closed,” Jason said uncertainly, brow furrowed. Maybe he should have flipped the sign, but he’d forgotten to now that he thought about it. It had been a long day. 

The man didn’t say anything, just took another cursory look around before locking his pale eyes on Jason. Had the man not heard him? Unsettled by the obviously assessing stare he was receiving, Jason opened his mouth hesitantly to try again. 

Before another word could pass between them, Jason jumped about a foot in the air as his phone vibrated in his pocket,  _ Eye of the Tiger _ playing obnoxiously through the quiet room. Startled, Jason fumbled before pulling it out of his pocket to check the caller ID. “S-sorry, hold on a sec,” he told the man as he swiped to answer, a flush of embarrassment rising in his face. 

“Hey, Jason, are you still at the dojo?” Master D’s voice filtered through the speaker, and Jason felt the knot in his throat ease a little, comforted by the familiar voice. 

“Uh, yeah, I’m still cleaning up,” Jason answered, turning his back on the stranger before giving him one more nervous glance. “What do you need? I’ve got someone at the door...” 

“This late?” he asked, and Jason could practically see the lift of his brow. “Who is it?” 

“Hm, dunno, they just walked in–” the door tinkled again and Jason turned around in surprise, looking out into the already lengthening evening. No trace of the stranger remained, and Jason shivered, unsettled. What was that about? “Never mind, he just left. Need me to bring you something before I leave?” 

“Nah, just forgot to turn off the heater in the office. Shut it down and get out of there already. I’ll take care of the cleaning in the morning.” 

Jason’s brows drew together. He’d been counting on having to stay for at least another half-hour. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Get going already, or Ashley won’t let me hear the end of it.” 

Jason deflated. Right. She just had to go and get Master D involved. “Fine,” he said sullenly, and the older man laughed. 

“Go have fun. You work too much.” The phone call ended and Jason moodily shoved his cell back into his pocket, leaving the dummy-knives where they lay. Time to get this over with, then.

He left the dojo and locked the door behind him, strange encounter already forgotten in the wake of his nerves for the coming night. 

##  \---

“Jase, my main man!” a blond young man called, and Jason turned with a smile that was little more than a grimace. Nat, his best friend, greeted him as he strode from the back room to stand behind the bar. Jason took a seat on one of the empty stools, ignoring the way obnoxious bass pounded through his body as  _ Shakira _ blasted over the speakers, her smooth voice sounding more like an angry wail at the moment. They still hadn’t fixed the audio, though it looked like tonight’s DJ was doing her damndest to get it done before guests started arriving, the girl cursing as it sputtered and went out before blasting again. It was early still, as far as bars went, only around six and the doors hadn’t even been opened. “I didn’t think you’d show,” Nat said conversationally, skillfully ignoring the wounded sound system. After all, he’d been in the night-life business long enough that he’d grown accustomed to tuning out chaos. He flashed Jason a winning smile, impossibly white teeth gleaming in the low, bluish light of the club. A classic beauty, the man could have walked off of a Men’s Warehouse add, wearing his usual button-down shirt and slacks despite the fact that they would be ruined by spilled alcohol before the night was through. 

“Yeah, well,” Jason said, rubbing his neck self-consciously. “Ashley cornered me at the dojo and insisted, like, eight times that I come.” He’d also practically been thrown out by his boss, but Nat didn’t need to know that.

“Oh?” Nat grinned slyly, sliding Jason a shot of whiskey without prompting. “Ashley, huh? Aren’t you guys getting a little  _ close _ lately?” 

“Shove off, dude, you know it’s not like that,” Jason rolled his eyes. “She’s married. Happily.” 

“Uh-huh,” Nat said, waggling his brows. 

“Happily married and  _ expecting,” _ Jason insisted pointedly, raising his own brows. Nat didn’t blink, continuing to grin and Jason sighed. Nat, for all that he was a great friend, was somewhat of an insatiable flirt, one who seldom felt that things as silly as  _ monogamy _ should stop people from pursuing the ones they like. Jason also knew that he was just teasing, however. Ashley and her husband had been friends with them for years, and it was abundantly clear that there was no getting between the couple, even if Jason had remotely wanted to. They simply had eyes for no-one else. 

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, you great prude,” Nat sighed dramatically. “But come on, dude, it’s been a year since the engagement and you have yet to move on already. What’s it going to take for you to open your eyes to all of the beauty around you?” He swept his arms around to encompass the entire bar. Though there wasn’t anyone actually  _ in _ the bar except for an irritable DJ and a few other bartenders chatting beside the entrance, Jason knew what he meant. That didn’t stop the small spark of irritation at his friend’s insistence. Nat had known him since they were freshmen in college and he damn well knew Jason’s history, even if he refused to accept it for some reason. He wasn’t a prude, he just...

_ “You _ come on,” Jason said glumly. “You know that I don’t...well, that I…” 

“Still on about that, huh?” Nat said, though not unkindly. It made Jason bristle, swirling his drink and glaring pointedly to the side. “Okay, fine, jeez, no need to get pissy. You’re going to have a great time tonight, yeah?” 

“I guess,” Jason muttered. It was a shame, because usually, he loved this place. Stonewalls, a small bar on the second floor of a restaurant, was one of the best joints in this college town for all that it didn’t look like much on the outside. Its interior was a bit cramped, typical for these older converted buildings. It had clearly been remodeled from a store of some sort, a smooth black floor put in along with a bar and a stage, private booths lining the wall. Blacklights lined the edges of the floor, lighting up the dance area and an impressive wall of alcohol. Nat and Jason had fallen in love with the place the second they’d walked into it the first time over six years ago, adoring the quirky, no-judgement atmosphere. The drinks were cheap, the usual crowd accepting, and it didn’t try to take itself too seriously. In a word, it was everything a college kid could want after escaping from the stifling guardianship of ultra-conservative parents. It ended up becoming one of the only places Jason could escape to while his life went to hell. 

Halfway through their college career, the place’s owner died suddenly, and Jason thought with despair that it was all over because one of the only places he truly felt at home was going to be taken from him just like everything else. Nat, however, didn’t even bat an eye, dropping school to use his life-savings and several hefty loans to buy the place out from a careless inheritor who would rather shut the place down than deal with it. Jason thought Nat was an idiot for going that far, but though he would never admit it, he would owe Nat forever.

Because more than anything, Stonewalls was one of the only places on this planet where Jason didn’t feel like such a freak.

Tonight though...tonight there was a show. And  _ she  _ was going to be there. 

“Aw, lighten up,” Nat told him. He lifted a fist to punch Jason lightly, but never made contact, stopping just before brushing the bare skin below the sleeve of Jason’s shirt and pulling back with a wink. “Lola is playing tonight, and I know she’s your favorite,” he sing-songed. 

Jason gave him a half-masted glare, but ultimately let it go. It wasn’t ideal, but he couldn’t really expect their friend group to shun her just because it didn’t work out between them and she’d gotten married to someone else.

Especially since he’d never brought himself to confess in the first place. 

“Lola, huh,” Jason said, forcing cheer into his voice and latching onto the change of subject for dear life. “I haven’t seen her in, like, a year. What gives?”

“I  _ know,”  _ Nat draped himself over the bar in despair. “She’s become so popular lately that it’s nearly impossible to book her. But,” he perked up, waggling his brows again, “I was able to pull some strings. I can be very...convincing.” 

Jason outright laughed at this, not fooled in the slightest. Nat was a liar, and he didn’t even try to hide it. “Lola would eat you alive, pretty boy.” 

It was true. The woman was six-four in stilettos and built like a tank. That and Nat was about as straight as they came. No matter how well Lola pulled off the tight gaudy dresses she loved, she just didn't have the right equipment for the self-proclaimed ladies’ man. 

“Yeah, you got me. I offered her twice her rate.” 

Jason nearly did a spit-take. “What?  _ Why?” _ No matter how good a show was, this bar was barely kept afloat by a small–albeit enthusiastic–fan base and a prayer. 

“Because,” Nat said seriously, looking Jason in the eye. “It’s your birthday and I want you to have a good time. Only the best for my little brother.” 

Jason’s chest clenched, swallowing down his liquor in a single gulp and choking through the harsh burn in an attempt to beat down the flush rising up his face. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was touched. “My birthday was two weeks ago, man. How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t need to go through all of this fuss for me?” 

“How many times do I have to tell  _ you _ , that I absolutely do,” Nat shot back. And maybe he wasn’t Jason’s brother by blood, but he’d proven himself to be more family than Jason’s actual relatives–except for his mamá of course. That still didn’t mean Jason liked being fussed over. At least Nat did it a lot less now that they weren’t roommates, but only because they saw each other less often. “Besides, we would have celebrated on the day of if it hadn’t taken two weeks to convince you to let us throw you a party in the first place. You’ve got to quit hiding in your apartment like an old man!”

Jason frowned. “I don’t hide. I go out!” 

Nat snorted. “Where, exactly? Let’s see...the dojo, the dojo, and–oh! Sometimes the grocery store. Although you probably haven’t gone in weeks again,” Nat ticked off his fingers. 

“I come here, don’t I?” Jason was a little offended, now. “Besides, grocery delivery is where it’s at.” 

“That’s for working moms and weebs too lazy to leave the house,” Nat countered, flicking in front of Jason’s face, making the darker man flinch back with a scowl. “My point is, you need to get out more. Now shut up and drink your drink. I’m about to open the club and you can bet that it will fill up in no time. The others will be here soon!” 

Jason groaned, resigning himself to the night to come. He wasn’t much of a partier–not at all, actually– but the force of gravity that was Nathan Evans had roped him into a friend group that absolutely  _ was _ . And they had friends, who also had friends, and really, when you got down to it, this was just a huge party for no reason full of people he mostly didn’t know. Nat knew this wasn’t Jason’s scene, that he would much rather sit in a booth in the corner and just enjoy the atmosphere. Jason hated being the center of attention. But still, Nat insisted, citing as always that it wasn’t healthy for Jason to be such a hermit.

Jason  _ wasn’t _ a hermit though. He was a martial arts instructor, and that took a certain amount of charm and ability to entertain in front of an audience, regardless of the fact that off the mat he was a social disaster. 

He just couldn’t help it. On the mat, he was comfortable, in his element. Outside of that…

Jason should have followed his instincts and stayed home to play that videogame he’d been wanting to take up again. Even if it was tragic and made little sense, there was something in the narrative that appealed to Jason’s escapist nature. And he really, really needed an escape. He wished he could go on a road trip with just a few close friends and save the world like the characters in that game rather than deal with his own life.

But that was ridiculous, and Jason was rooted firmly in reality.

The DJ cried in triumph as the sound system finally croaked to life and started playing  _ Portugal. The Man _ clear as a bell. Jason sighed in resignation and blinked down at the drink in his hand, noticing for the first time that Nat had refilled it while he’d been occupied. Sneaky bastard. A small smile pulled at his full lips. At least the drinks would be free, and hey, maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as he dreaded. 

\---

Three hours later, and Jason was rueing his optimism. 

_ They’re my friends and I mustn’t murder them in their sleep, _ he repeated to himself for the twentieth time in as many minutes as yet another stranger stumbled into him off the dance floor, drunk as all hell and wishing him a happy birthday with a friendly pat to the shoulder. His skin crawled as he forced himself to smile and not throw her off him, hating every second until the inebriated woman realized he wasn’t interested and hopped back onto the dance floor. He didn’t bother to pretend that he wasn’t rubbing his arm to get rid of the unwanted sensation of her clammy touch the second she was gone.

He’d been mortified when Nat, the utter bastard, dragged him onto the stage and announced him ‘king of the night’, placing a gaudy plastic crown on his head to the cheering of over a hundred strangers and, like, three people Jason actually cared about packed into too small a space. He really,  _ really _ wished they could have just chilled at his place, but Nat always was one to make a big deal out of any occasion and would not let him skip out this year. Why did he like him again? Jason was finding it hard to remember.

He sighed, trying to shake off his piss-poor mood, realizing he was being just a little bit unfair.

The show really was good, despite the stick up Jason’s ass that he just couldn’t seem to remove tonight. Lola was killing it, as always, and the crowd was loving it. The truth was, he wouldn’t have been so uptight if he wasn’t so damned nervous.  _ She _ hadn’t shown up yet. Maybe she wouldn’t. Here’s to hoping. 

Jason instantly felt bad for the thought, rolling the cool edge of his half-empty glass against his frown. It had been months since the worst day of his life, and years since he’d seen it coming like a speeding freight train. He should have been over this by now…

“Hey,” a woman shouted over the din, and Jason’s heart stopped, nearly dropping his glass onto the bartop. He relaxed a second later with a gusty sigh when he realized it was only Ashley who slipped into the small empty space beside him, a group of giggling girls scooting out of her way. She’d cleaned up well considering she’d been on the mat as long as he had that day, taking the time to straighten her curly brown hair and put on way too much makeup. She was grinning when she joined him, but her painted lips slipped into a frown when she realized he wasn’t smiling back. “Jesus, Jason, you don’t have to look so put out.” 

“It’s my party and I can cry if I want to,” he sang sullenly, trying and failing to banish his glum attitude. Ashley was great. He  _ liked _ Ashley. The thought nearly brought tears to Jason’s eyes, and okay, maybe he should stop drinking right about now. 

“That’s the spirit,” she said, giving him the sign for ‘love’, their shorthand for a hug. She sobered. “Look, I know this is hard for you but we can’t just cut her out. She might be oblivious but she’s still my best friend.” 

“I know that,” Jason said. 

“She still cares about you.” 

“I  _ know _ that.” Just not in the way he’d always wanted. He hadn’t actually seen her since she returned from her honeymoon, making this excuse or other to avoid it, and he honestly wasn’t sure if he could take it yet. He was still haunted by the way she’d told him that she’d gotten engaged, that she’d wanted him to be her best man. Still haunted by how happy she’d looked–how  _ radiant _ –on her wedding day when he’d been forced to admit to himself that he’d never had a chance in the first place. 

Because he was a coward. Because he was  _ broken _ .

Ashley huffed and waved over a harried bartender, ordering water for Jason and herself, though he was the only one who needed it to sober up. She, of course, wasn’t drinking with a baby on the way, her belly just starting to show beneath her loose dress. Jason didn’t  _ want _ water though. He wanted another drink to drown out the noise in his head. He didn’t want to think anymore. 

“Come on, let’s go out back for a minute. I could use a break,” Ashley said, placing a hand over her stomach and tilting her head towards the door. Jason eyed the rows of liquor mournfully, gleaming so temptingly behind the bar, but one didn’t ignore a pregnant woman when she needed a break. Or so she kept telling him, and anyone who would listen. He got the distinct feeling that though she complained endlessly, she enjoyed the attention. 

Following Ashley out back, Jason breathed deep as he stepped onto the stairwell that led into the alley behind the bar, lukewarm night air cooling the heat that had clung to them in the crowded space. He leaned against the railing, lazily eyeing the string lights that lit the narrow passage between the two buildings. The door shut behind them, the bass of the music becoming nothing more than quiet thumping, felt rather than heard. A street away, loud laughter and chatter echoed, the night young and the town full of college students flocking to the square to take a load off from the long week. 

Asley sighed, leaning back against the railing and taking a long drink. Jason idly stirred his, sipping at it sullenly only when she glared. “So,” she started conversationally, and Jason tensed. “When are you going to stop moping around about this, huh?” 

“I’m not moping,” Jason shot back immediately, already tired of this conversation. He’d just had it with Nat, after all, and he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. He’d been successfully avoiding talking about it since the love of his life announced her engagement.

“Bullshit. You’re going to have to face it sooner or later, hun.” Ashley’s fingers twitched beside her face, miming out of habit the cigarettes she no longer smoked. “I’ve been watching the two of you dance around each other for years and I’m sick of it.” 

Jason  _ liked _ Ashley, he reminded himself. Although right now, he wasn’t so sure. 

“I’m just saying, all of this could have been avoided if you’d just told her how you felt.” 

“You know why I didn’t, Ash,” Jason muttered, half tempted to drop the glass over the rail in a fit of petulance. It would be so satisfying to watch it shatter against the concrete, but he wouldn’t because it belonged to Nat. Also, he wasn’t a savage. 

“When are you going to stop using that as an excuse?” Ashley snapped, and Jason flinched, surprised at the anger in her tone. He ducked his head, her abrupt ire a slap to the face. What made it worse was that he knew he was hard to deal with. He didn’t  _ want _ to be a burden on his friends, but they did have a habit of dragging it out of Jason, not allowing him to bottle things up as he would much rather do.

“Ugh, sorry,” she said only a moment later, placing a hand on her forehead. “Blame it on the mood swings, alright? You know I’m just worried about you.”

“I know,” Jason said softly. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Ashley insisted, leaning ever so slightly closer and seeking his eyes, though he did his best to avoid her gaze. It was something he’d heard over and over again, from all the people that mattered and dozens of people who didn’t. It didn't change the fact that he didn’t believe it. 

It didn’t change the fact that he would be alone for the rest of his life.

“Lydia would have understood. You could have…”

“Please, just drop it,” Jason interrupted, closing his eyes, a lance of pain throbbing in his throat. He didn’t want to hear her name. He didn’t want to think about this anymore. The alcohol tasted rancid on his tongue now, sweetness cloying, and his head began to pound as he sobered up. He already knew he was going to have a hell of a hangover in the morning, and somehow it didn’t feel worth it. 

“Okay,” Ashley said after a moment. He could feel her eyes on him. She sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s supposed to be your birthday party and here I am dredging up unpleasant topics.” 

Jason bit his lip. He couldn’t blame her exactly. He hated to admit it, but both she and Nat were right, he had been avoiding all of them for longer than he cared to admit. They hadn’t really talked like this in a while. It wasn’t entirely his fault though, because–

“Ashley!” Toby burst from the back door, startling them both, eyes lighting up as he finally caught sight of his wife. His fluffy black hair was mussed like he’d been through a windstorm rather than a night out, but that was pretty much how he always looked. “I’ve been looking for you for  _ forever,” _ he gushed, reaching out to wrap his thin arms around Ashley to pull her close. 

Ashley laughed, indulging her rather inebriated husband, nuzzling affectionately into his neck. “You goof, it’s been ten minutes.” 

“Too long,” he muttered into her skin, making her giggle.

Jason watched them out of the corner of his eye before facing resolutely back towards the alley, unable to stop the poisonous prick of jealousy at their easy affection. Now he really wished he had more alcohol. They’d been like this forever, of course, but lately, it had grated on Jason more and more considering the past six months. Also, they’d been nigh  _ unbearable _ since they announced they were pregnant. 

After several uncomfortable minutes where Jason was forced to endure the two of them coo and cuddle each other as if he weren’t even there, Toby finally pulled back, gangling limbs thrown up into the air, animated. “You’ll never guess who just showed up,” he exclaimed, always the excitable one, especially when he’d been drinking. “Lydia! It’s been  _ forever, _ but we’re all together again!” 

Jason tensed, an unreasonably strong spike of adrenaline setting his nerves alight as if he’d been sentenced to execution rather than potentially talking to the woman he would never have. 

He was going to be sick. He couldn’t do this. He  _ couldn’t _ . 

Abruptly, he started for the stairs, not caring in the least that he was ditching his own party. He wasn’t ready. He might never be. 

“Jason, wait, where are you going?” Toby asked, dismayed and just a bit slurred. He grunted as Ashley elbowed him in the side. 

“What Toby means to say, is that you should just try and talk to her,” Ashley said gently, as if coaxing a wild animal out of hiding. Jason might as well have been just that for all that he felt cornered. They meant well, he knew they did, but this was too much. He needed air. He needed to get out of here. 

“Tell Nat thanks,” he muttered, waving and starting down the stairs without looking back, dropping the dumb plastic crown on the ground to mingle with the rest of the trash. 

“I knew he wouldn’t stay,” Toby despaired, too loud, as Jason made his way down the street. Jason tucked his chin into his chest, picking up his pace as the disappointment of one of his only friends echoed harshly off the street. He didn’t want to hear it, but drunk Toby wasn’t exactly subtle. “I told Nat it was too soon–oof!” 

Ashley must have elbowed him again, but Jason didn’t hear her rebuttal, already turning the corner and beginning the long walk back to his apartment. It was only ten, but the sidewalks were filled with raucous twenty-somethings already drunk or getting there. Usually, it wouldn’t bother him, but right now he wished they would all just  _ shut up, _ wished the music wasn’t so loud spilling out of every bar and that the lights weren’t quite so bright and cheerful. 

But the world doesn’t adjust to suit your mood, no matter how depressed you might feel. He should have just stayed home like he had yesterday…at least when you were sitting around playing video games you could worry about someone else’s problems for a little while. 

It was a long walk back to his apartment, the night air cool, just on the last dregs of summer before fall’s chill could set in. Not for the first time, he wished he’d taken his car, even though he knew it was lazy when both the dojo and the bar were only six blocks away. He would just have to suck it up. Despite his pessimism, the lights and sounds from the square faded behind Jason soon enough and he started to breathe easier as the pressures of other people existing in the same space as him went away. 

Man, he was being a jerk tonight. Already, he could feel the regret of treating his friends so poorly hit him hard, the shame of his behavior always ten times worse long after the fact for all the good it ever did him in the moment. He groaned aloud, running his fingers through his hair. They just wanted him to have fun for once and he’d ruined it. Again. He would have to make it up to them somehow…

A cold trickle went down Jason’s spine and he stopped, dropping his hand and looking up abruptly. Jason had been walking on autopilot and realized that he’d already reached the neighborhood separating the main road from his apartment complex, the streets only illuminated by the few porch lights, glimmering dimly in the new moon. He scanned the dark street, trying to see what had spooked him. 

This wasn’t necessarily a dangerous neighborhood, mostly college kids and families, but it was late, a little too late for anyone to be out walking around. Yet there was a man wearing all black walking towards Jason, his dark form flashing in and out of the dim porch lights through the trees. 

He looked...familiar, and it took several seconds for Jason to place where he’d seen him, mind muddled with exhaustion and drink. But a flash of blond against the dark jogged his memory along with the creeping discomfort he’d experienced earlier that night. Wasn’t that the man who’d showed up at the dojo?

A shiver of true alarm slithered up Jason’s neck, because for the second time that night he found himself beneath the stranger’s stern gaze. Hands shoved into his jacket pockets, the man didn’t increase his stride or seem to even acknowledge Jason, and yet the closer he came the tighter Jason’s stomach clenched, unease a cloying acid building in the back of his throat. 

He swallowed, trying to get himself to calm down. Maybe the man lived here, and Jason was just jumping to conclusions. It was dark, after all. Maybe the man wasn’t even looking at him. But still...he should probably walk on the other side of the street, just in case this guy was a mugger or something. 

Jason had barely made up his mind when light and sound spilled abruptly onto the road from the house beside him, loud, raucous laughter shattering the silence as a few people walked out onto the porch. Jason jerked hard, his heart, already on edge, jumping into his throat to choke off the surprised shout, normality rushing back in with a literal bang. He recognized belatedly the frat house he’d visited a few times with Nat, and wasn’t terribly surprised when two people stumbled onto the grass and began making out right there to the laughter of their friends. 

Jason raised a brow, grimacing, before looking back around warily. He paused. The man was gone. Slowly, he shook his head. Maybe he was being paranoid...Jason moved to the other side of the street anyway, deciding that whether he was being paranoid or not, he’d rather be overcautious than deal with any potential weirdos. Looking over his shoulder one last time–the man hadn’t reappeared–Jason started walking again, this time paying a little more attention like he should have been from the start. 

Jason’s phone began buzzing in his pocket for the second time that night, once again pushing the strange encounter from his mind. He paused, pulling his phone from his jacket, blinking into the too-bright screen. He hoped it wasn’t Nat. He really didn’t want to face his disappointment so soon… 

“Ugh,” Jason complained. It was worse than that. Much worse. Just what he needed when he already felt like shit. For a split second, he considered ignoring the call but knew he would end up paying for it later. Why did the bastard have to call now, of all times?

Bringing the phone up to his ear with more force than was probably necessary, Jason growled, “What.”

“Now, now, is that any way to greet your father?” a familiar voice drawled, and it sent equal amounts of dread and acute irritation up Jason’s spine, his already aggravated anxiety rocketing through the roof. “I wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t important.”

“Fuck off,” Jason muttered, already done with this conversation. Jason was drunk and tired and  _ pissed _ and he so didn’t need this right now. He would hang up, but that had never gone over well for him in the past.

If he hadn’t been all of those things, maybe he would have realized sooner that it was a little out of character for the man to be calling him like this so late, but he really couldn’t bring himself to care right now. 

A sigh of irritation was Jason’s reward, and he took vicious pleasure in it. “So ungrateful,” Matthew Cruz, Jason’s father and all-around asshole, scolded condescendingly, and Jason’s temper flared against his will, even if he knew that that was exactly what his father wanted. “Who do you think paid for your tuition, hm? Who allows you to work at that dead-end job and live in the projects? A little appreciation wouldn’t be amiss.”

Jason gritted his teeth in genuine anger. “You want me to be _ grateful _ you forced me to go to such a fucking expensive college with a major I didn’t even want? And for the last time, I don’t live in the  _ projects.” _ It was an old argument, one they’d had over a hundred times the past few years. But time didn’t seem to make it any less heated. Besides, Jason knew that Matthew could afford to pay for something as measly as a four-year degree. It was pocket change to him, and he would have thrown all the more money at Jason if he even hinted that he wanted a Master’s. Not that he would, because he hadn’t even wanted to go to college in the first place.

“Oh, right,  _ student housing _ . My mistake.”

“It’s not–” Jason bit off a low curse, knowing that this was going to get him nowhere and really just wanting this conversation to be over. “Look, what do you want?”

A heavy sigh sounded on the other end and Jason snarled silently, nerves frayed. Well, fuck, maybe his dad should stop calling him just to harass him if it was such a pain in the ass. “Jesus, Jason,” Matthew said longsufferingly, and Jason could practically see the permanent wrinkles between his salt and pepper brows growing deeper, the man no doubt pinching the bridge of his nose the way he always did when he was burning the midnight oil. Disarmed by the casual use of his name, something his father hadn’t done in  _ years, _ Jason slowed his furious stalk. “Look, that’s not the reason I called, so you can stop squeezing your phone to death before you break  _ another _ one,” he said pointedly and Jason scowled, easing up on the poor thing. “There’s been some strange calls coming into the office lately.” 

“Sounds like a personal problem,” Jason said, though the anger had leached out of his voice now, more tired than anything. 

“Yeah, it  _ is _ personal,” his father replied, tone dead serious and not rising to the provocation. Jason was starting to become worried now, finally catching on that this conversation might be outside of the normal pissing match. “They aren’t just solicitors, they’re threats. Specifically against our family.” 

Jason took his time as he parsed out what his father was suggesting, thoughts sluggish. “Who did you piss off?” he said, but he was starting to feel nervous, brow furrowing at the implications. 

“Jason. This is serious.”

_ “How _ serious?” he retorted in frustration. Get to the point!

“I’ve had your mother moved to the Florida house,” Matthew said bluntly, and that finally got through to Jason, sending his blood into hyperdrive, eyes focusing. 

“What?” Jason hissed, fury replacing nerves in an instant. How dare he? Matthew may have been a controlling asshole, but he’d never pulled something like this. There was no way that Jason’s mamá, Anita, would have allowed herself to be removed from her family in Mexico, no way she would leave Jason’s Abuela to fend for herself with her horrible sister–

“For Christ’s sake, boy, she agreed. What kind of monster do you think I am?” Jason didn’t answer that. He didn’t have to. Matthew sighed, and now Jason was really worried because he didn’t sound nearly as cool and infuriatingly collected as usual. “If you would just listen to me for once in your goddamn life I could tell you why I did it.” 

Taking a deep breath, Jason pinched the bridge of his nose in a habit he’d picked up from his father. He hated it, but couldn’t help it any more than the shape of his brow or his long nose. “So tell me.”

“I’ve been receiving anonymous calls demanding money. Neither the FBI or my private investigators can seem to track them, and their threats are getting more explicit. Just jabs at my reputation at first, but when that didn’t work they started making... _ suggestions _ about you and your mother.” 

“Who are they?”

“Hell if I know. And it doesn’t matter. They have nothing on me, and I’ll have them fettered out soon and dealt with.” Jason shivered. It wasn’t an idle threat. For all that his father was reputable on the outside, his ruthlessness was renowned. One didn’t get as wealthy as him without making some shady deals. “Pack your shit. I’m sending a car for you in the morning.”

“Wait, what?” Jason said, thrown. 

“Did I stutter, boy? I just told you the threats were for you too. Now do as I say.” The phone cheerily announced the ending of the call and Jason had to resist the urge to slam it into the ground. 

Just what he _ fucking _ needed. Maybe if his father wasn’t such an asshole he wouldn’t have so many enemies! He fantasized for several satisfying moments about packing his stuff and just disappearing–that would show his stupid father–but deflated soon enough. No. He couldn’t do that to his mamá. And even if Matthew wasn’t the greatest dad, he didn’t  _ hate _ him...as such. If Matthew hadn’t thought there was a genuine danger to his family, then he wouldn’t be doing this. As infuriatingly controlling as it was, this was actually Matthew showing he cared.

Or at the very least, protecting his investment.

Jason was too emotionally exhausted to think about it too deeply. He was sweaty and tipsy and he felt disgusting, still high strung from too many people in his personal space for a lifetime. He felt like an utter jerk for ditching his friends, like a coward for avoiding his problems, and all of that was only made worse by his father once again bringing out the worst in him. He just wanted to go  _ home,  _ dammit.

If only for one more night for the foreseeable future. He was going to have to talk to Master D before he could leave, and after it had been so hard to convince him to hire Jason in the first place…

At least he would get to see his mamá for the first time in over a year. Small blessings.

Shoulders hunched and hands shoved into his pockets, Jason walked home in the dark.

* * *

Despite what Jason’s father would have people believe, Jason did not, in fact, live in the projects  _ or _ student housing. His apartment was modest, sure, but it was what he could afford. Honestly, he wasn’t complaining. The neighborhood was pretty quiet, the drug dealers discreet, and he hadn’t seen anyone die from an overdose or domestic abuse since he’d moved here. So, better than his last apartment, at least.  _ That _ had been rough. He’d been living with Nat at the time and they’d barely been able to rub two pennies together collectively. 

So his dad could shove it. Jason was doing just fine on his own. 

Far more tired than he’d realized, Jason dragged himself up the three flights of stairs in his building, just ready for this day to be over. He probably shouldn’t have pushed himself so hard in training, but it had been the only way to quiet his anxiety enough to actually keep his promise to Ashley. Not that it did him a lot of good. He still ended up making an ass of himself. His throat attempted to close on him, but he swallowed past it, hoping that he’d be sober enough soon to pass right out so he would no longer have to  _ think _ .

He sighed in aggravation as he fumbled for his key in the dark, his porch light out again. He could have sworn he’d had that fixed last week... 

Finally jamming the stubborn key into the lock after the third try, he pushed his way inside, sighing heavily as he dumped his duffel by the door. He needed food, a shower, and  _ sleep _ , in that order, and then maybe he’d feel more human. Dragging his feet, Jason gave his dark apartment a cursory glance, stepping past the living room and into the kitchen, grabbing blindly into his nearly empty fridge for the sandwich he’d made that morning. Shoving it into his mouth, Jason took no time to scarf it down without really tasting it, eyes half-lidded as he left a trail of clothes all the way to the bathroom. 

Scalding hot water sluicing over his aching muscles felt like bliss, and Jason leaned into the tiles, letting it wash the stress and filth of the day down the drain. By the time he’d actually washed the sweat and alcohol from his skin, he was so drowsy he might have passed out comfortably on the bathroom floor. Dragging flannel pants over his damp body, Jason shuffled into the living room, attempting to get his damp hair in order before it dried into an unmanageable mess. 

“Well, well, didn’t expect to get a show,” a woman’s voice pierced through Jason’s sleepy haze in an instant. 

Yelping, Jason slammed back into the bar separating the living room from the kitchen, sending several glasses toppling from the cluttered surface to shatter against the floor. They crashed noisily, adding to the spike of painful adrenaline that stung Jason’s fingers and locked up his spine. He gaped, wide-eyed, at the stranger that sat in his living room, casually draped over the nest of blankets and pillows that covered his couch in a disorganized mess. “What the fuck,” Jason wheezed, hand gripping his bare chest and voice barely audible through his clenched throat. He glanced between the woman and the door, which he’d apparently forgotten to lock despite his father’s warning earlier. 

“Now, now, none of that,” she drawled, and Jason nearly had a panic attack as she nonchalantly pulled a pistol from her jacket and pointed it unerringly at his heart. He froze, muddled mind trying to make sense of this insane situation, half-convinced he was dreaming but definitely not willing to risk it. “I’m going to need you to put some clothes on, dollface, we’ve got a long drive ahead of us.” 

“What?” Jason asked, but again, his voice was little more than a panicked whisper. 

Her expression hardened, playful edge gone in an instant from her wide face. “I said, clothes. Now.” She stood, a fair bit shorter than Jason–most people were– but surprisingly nearly as wide in the shoulder. Her jaw was locked in an aggressive grimace, dark eyes narrowed beneath short blond hair. She looked like someone Jason really didn’t want to fuck with, even if she hadn’t had a gun expertly pointed at his person. The woman gestured with said gun towards his bedroom, staying at a cautious distance so that even if he could break through his panic to try and subdue her, she would shoot him long before he got close enough to try. “Unless you want me to drag your naked ass halfway across the country, I suggest you  _ move it.” _

Swallowing harshly, Jason jerked into motion, stumbling towards his bedroom on shaking knees. What the fuck, _ what the fuck _ . Who was this crazy woman, what did she want? He glanced at her fearfully, from the top of her spiked hair to the bottom of her black shoes. 

Black, like the man who’d stopped by the dojo. 

Jason paled further. 

He hadn’t been imagining it. He was being stalked, had been all day and for who knows how long before that. Matthew’s warning had come too late.

Jason grabbed the first pieces of clothing off the pile of clean clothes on the floor, not even registering what they were. His skin prickled as he felt her eyes on him like spiders crawling all over his skin, but he didn’t have a choice in the matter, not unless he wanted to get killed. Fighting down his panic, he shed his flannels and pulled on a pair of jeans as quickly as he could, fingers shaking over the fiddly buttons. He looked around frantically beneath his black lashes for anything that might help him, but his training weapons were at the dojo and he’d never owned a gun. He’d trained in self-defense for years, but there was one universal truth; no amount of skill was faster than a bullet. If he could just get close enough, though, he might be able to surprise her. 

He held onto that desperate thought as he pulled a t-shirt over his head and snagged his jacket and tennis shoes, glancing nervously at the woman who stood casual in his doorway, watching his every move with bored eyes. Dressed, Jason hesitated, wondering what he should do now. 

The woman didn’t give him a chance to contemplate it long, gesturing for him to leave the room and head for the door. “Don’t try anything, kid. I will not hesitate to shoot you in the leg and drag you out of here.” 

Jason gulped, nodding and not doubting it for an instant. “W-why are you doing this?”

She shrugged, answering easily enough. “I’m getting paid. Now move.”

Jason’s heart frantically pushed blood hot and thick through his stinging limbs and rushing head. He knew that if she got him into a car, it was all over. He had to do something  _ now, _ or he was royally screwed. It didn’t matter what she actually wanted from him, he was certain that at the end of it, he would be dead. 

The thought chilled him, ice starting low in his stomach and seizing him with fear. He couldn’t let that happen.

Yet, he’d never been in a situation this _ real _ before. He was a six-foot man, too poor for mugging and too outwardly intimidating to try anything with; he’d simply never had to defend himself in any serious capacity in his life. Though his body was frantic with adrenaline–the innate, overpowering instinct to _ attack, get away, get away _ –his mind stalled at the thought of actually hurting her.

His hesitation in that moment would be one he’d sorely regret.

Stars exploded behind his eyes and he fell to the ground with a yelp of pain, his head slamming harshly into the wall and a rush of crimson gushing from the gash over his eye. Jason reeled, the room spinning and lurching as agony pulled him in and out of consciousness in heady waves of black. 

With a snort of disgust, his assaulter wiped the blood from the barrel of her gun, leaving a careless smear on her dark jeans that danced and shimmered through the haze in Jason’s eyes. That done, she crouched and grabbed a stinging a fistful of Jason’s hair, her hot breath washing over him in a cloud of mint. He whimpered, ears ringing harshly and struggling to breathe through the pain, stomach roiling in protest as he was gripped with vertigo.

She chuckled darkly. “Next time, don’t hesitate before you attack, brat. Won’t survive long with that bleeding heart. Now get up. It’s late and we have a long way to go.” 

The trip out of the apartment was a blur to Jason. He stumbled twice more, knocking more things to the ground and leaving smears of blood beneath his feet. She pushed him out and left the door open carelessly, nudging him down the stairs. There was no one around, the streets quiet at nearly one in the morning. There was no hope of being discovered, not unless Jason screamed, and he got the feeling that she would absolutely go through with her threat and shoot him. She might need him alive for whatever reason, but it didn’t look like he needed to be whole for her purposes. He should just count himself lucky at this point that the ‘threats’ his father had been receiving hadn’t gotten Jason killed on the spot. 

Jason cursed to himself in an endless litany, too dizzy to walk straight and one eye closed from the steady stream of blood trickling down his face. If there had been a sliver of a chance that he could subdue her before, there was none now thanks to his hesitation. He couldn’t see straight anymore and exhaustion was pulling heavy at his limbs, adrenaline unable to keep him going for much longer. He’d been awake since five the previous morning, had been on the mat for over eight hours, and worst of all, alcohol still muddled his movements. Now, pistol-whipped and possibly concussed, he was well and truly at her mercy.

Jason’s vision faded in and out, and before he realized it he was standing in front of an unremarkable black SUV. He stared at it with dread, but the woman pushed him out of her way and opened the door, shoving him inside. Jason all but fell into the seat, nausea pooling in his throat and wishing the world would stop spinning long enough for him to get upright again. When he finally did, he found a hand in his face, something hard and small pressed against his lips. He flinched, but before he could do more than that he felt the unmistakable edge of the gun sinking into his stomach, just above his pelvis. He froze, heart skipping several beats, breaths coming fast and uneven. He stared into her eyes, acid green and mildly annoyed, as if his resistance were no more than a minor inconvenience.

“Open your mouth, kid,” the woman said calmly. Jason pressed his lips tight despite the gun, realizing even in his half-baked mind that letting her drug him was a very, very bad idea. Who knew what it was that she pressed so insistently against his lips? If he let her drug him he would have no idea where they were heading or what was coming next. 

He got the feeling that was the idea. 

Unfortunately for Jason, she was growing impatient. She pressed the pill harder against his mouth, eyes narrowing dangerously. “Open. Your. Mouth. I swear to  _ Christ _ , I will knock your ass out and break your legs if you don’t.” Jason shook his head, eyes wild with panic. 

An irritated sigh, and then Jason’s head snapped to the side for a second time, color exploding in his vision. He tried to gasp, but a firm hand wrapped around his throat, cutting off his air. His jaw dropped uselessly as he scrabbled for her wrist, but he choked and convulsed as she thrust her fingers into his mouth, pressing into his throat. Nausea surged up more violently than before, but with his throat so cruelly blocked there was nowhere for it to go. His vision spotted as she held him still, getting weaker by the second. A cloying bitterness coated the back of his tongue, whatever she’d shoved in there dissolving rapidly.

Just as he was about to black out, the hands were gone and the door slammed closed. Jason heaved, hacking as he curled into himself. He tried to spit out whatever she’d given him, but it was too late, the pill already dissolved to nothing. Before he could reorient himself the car rocked forward in a squeal of tires. His heart lurched weakly as his assaulter started driving, taking him away from his home. 

No...he needed to get out...get away…

Black crowded Jason’s vision as suddenly everything caught up to him at once, limbs collapsing and sending him toppling onto his side. Fuck...move.  _ Move!  _ But it was no use. A few seconds later, Jason was unconscious. 

* * *

**“Jase,” whispered a quiet voice, laced with worry and the barest of tremors.**

**It drifted through the night air without an echo, the dingy alley deserted save for one young man hunched over himself in the chill of late evening. In his hands lay a small, unremarkable book that he held between his palms as if he both reviled and adored it, fear of its contents not enough to keep him from cradling it like the most precious of gems. A slight shiver of tension shook his fingers, obscuring the words on the sepia pages. As much as he wanted to stop reading, to burn the pages into a pile of ash, he couldn’t.**

**Prompto couldn’t do that, because between its worn, well-loved folds it held the story of the man he loved.**

**He’d only been reading for a half-hour and already he’d felt heartache, anger on Jason’s behalf, and now fear for his safety. On the one hand, he was getting to know more about Jason in that small amount of time than he’d been able to glean from the reserved man for months, enough to understand a little more about why he’d been so guarded at first, why it had taken so long to coax down his barriers and see the beautiful soul within. On the other, it was more than Prompto could bear to see Jason struggle like this, couldn’t stand to see him in danger when there was _nothing_ he could do about it, an entire world away.**

**No, no, no, not Jason. How could Jason have let that woman take him? Why hadn’t been more careful, _why?_ His dad had _just_ told him he was a target! The whole time it was happening– _it’s not really happening,_ the young man reminded himself, _it’s not, things are different now_ –he couldn’t breathe, his heart racing and aching as he read Jason get injured and kidnapped and how _dare_ she touch him?**

**What had she given him? What did she _do?_ Prompto wanted to read more, but his heart was in his throat, a sympathetic panic attack rising up in his body in an unstoppable tide. He whimpered in the semi-dark, huddling against the filthy brick wall that easily supported his slight weight. He can’t, can’t, _can’t_ let this happen, he wanted to bundle Jason up and never let him leave Prompto’s side, wanted to bury the treacherous text where no one would ever find it–**

**_Keep reading,_ he told himself sternly, doing his best to force down his tension. _This isn’t about what you want._**

**As much as he wanted to just forget any of this ever happened, Prompto let out a gusty breath and eased his grip on the slightly wrinkled cover. He trusted Jason. He owed him that much after all this time.**

**Prompto knew that Jason could get himself out of this situation without his help, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to somehow dive into the book and shoot that woman in the face with her own gun. It was hard. That bitch had hurt Jason, had her _hands in his mouth_ , touched what was _his_. The young man growled in frustration, running slim fingers through his disheveled blond hair. His face was pale, paler than normal, freckles standing out starkly against his nose. He needed to calm down. He had to finish this, had to know what Jason might be getting himself into. **

**With one last trembling breath, he ran a finger over the image of Jason on the cover lovingly and flipped the book back open.**


	2. First Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I put a 'graphic depictions of violence' tag on this story, but guys, this chapter is VIOLENT. Take care of yourselves and be especially mindful of the tags ;-;
> 
> I promise things get better! Eventually.
> 
> Also, I don't know anything about nerve damage and from what I could research its all pretty inconclusive anyway. Take everything in this chapter and beyond with a grain of fantasy salt.

Jason noticed the steady, uneven pounding first, drums beating in the dark. It was earth-shattering, every beat ratcheting through his body punishingly, as if someone took a mallet to his bones. He groaned, a dry, rasping thing, drifting in and out of consciousness only to be dragged back to the surface with every painful percussion. He wanted to open his eyes but they were heavy on his face, weighted. They felt swollen, as if he’d spent way too much time in the sun, enough to burn even his dark skin. 

The pounding continued, and it took Jason an interminable amount of time to realize that it was in sync with the beating of his heart, slow and sluggish. His veins seemed filled with thick honey, dilating and contracting with more effort than an automatic response should take. 

_Where…?_

He shifted slightly, only to instantly regret it as his stomach rebelled, threatening to spew whatever measly contents it contained onto the surface below. The world spun drunkenly, though he no longer seemed to be moving. Wherever they’d planned to take him, they’d arrived. A trickle of alarm tried to make its way through his system, but he felt numb, hungover, and even that couldn’t convince him to open his eyes. It was the worst sort of illness; a brutal overdose that he felt lucky to survive. He had to wonder if the thugs that kidnapped him even considered that the drug they used wouldn’t play nice with alcohol. 

Mustering what precious little energy he had, Jason moved his arm with monumental effort. Just a twitch at first, his muscles uncoordinated, but then he was able to drag it across the surface beneath him. Coarse fabric met his seeking fingertips. He let them drift further until he ran into the edge of the surface, but couldn’t reach past that. A bed? Some sort of cot? 

He tried to move his other arm, but a clatter of metal echoed loudly through the room as he met resistance. His arm stretched out uncomfortably above his head and only now did Jason feel the cold bite of steel around his wrist. A Handcuff. He was _handcuffed to the bed._

Adrenaline slowly won the fight against Jason’s illness and he struggled to open his eyes again. They cracked open finally, and it shouldn’t have felt like he was trying to lift a _car,_ but it did. Light flooded into his awareness and he gasped, snapping them shut again with a wince. After several seconds he tried again, this time with more success. 

A blank, concrete ceiling was the first thing he registered, a single fluorescent light flickering and making his headache spike. Jason turned his head, neck smarting and wondered vaguely how long he’d been passed out on his back like this. He blinked, unsure if what he was seeing could possibly be accurate. 

He was in a prison cell. 

Which made no sense, he thought as he stared blankly at the iron bars that did little to obscure the bland hallway beyond. Jason had never committed a crime in his life unless you counted the occasional illegal substance and jaywalking, something nearly everyone was guilty of one way or another. But it wasn’t like he would be arrested for something like that _now_. Besides, he was absolutely certain the people that kidnapped him were not on the right side of the law. 

Further perusal of the room revealed an old-fashioned toilet, a sink with a broken mirror, and that he was indeed lying on a cot. A steady drip echoed in the small space and Jason realized that it must be the sound that woke him, though it was far from the horrible drumbeat he’d first imagined, his heart keeping pace with the incessant _tink_. Rusted pipes further solidified his suspicion that this place likely hadn’t been properly maintained in years.

The whole setup looked...old. In disrepair. An abandoned jailhouse?

He wasn’t even certain he was aboveground because there was no window to the outside. Suddenly, Jason desperately wished he knew the time. How long had he been out? Hours? Days? Had his father realized he was missing yet? His friends wouldn’t notice he was gone, not until Monday when he failed to show up for work. They tended to leave him alone when he pulled away like he had the night he’d been taken, well used to his brooding fits. They knew that he wouldn’t respond well to prodding, so they would wait for him to come to them. 

Only, he wouldn’t be able to this time and by the time they notice he’s missing it might be too late. He could only hope his father's driver would realize what happened, though he didn't hold much of a hope they would find him. Jason groaned, trying unsuccessfully to suppress the panic clawing its way out of his throat. He yanked on the handcuffs holding him down again, but aside from making his headache worse and his wrist smart sharply, there was very little give. Whatever drug had subdued him was wearing off swiftly, though he knew he would be feeling the effects of this hangover for a good long while. 

Voices echoed from down the hall and Jason fell still. Wide-eyed, his heart rate jumped as they drew closer, soft murmurs that he couldn’t decipher past the pounding in his ears. Should he pretend to be asleep? 

Jason rebelled at the idea. There was no way he wanted to let them close, and pretending to sleep only invited them to do to him what they wished. Besides, he got the feeling that whatever they wanted to him for his consciousness probably wasn’t required. 

Jason wasn’t able to contemplate for long, much less come up with a better plan, because they were on him barely ten seconds later. A middle-aged woman walked into his view first, one he didn’t recognize. Slim and pale-skinned, she looked ill in the buzzing fluorescents, her white-blond hair dull. She stared at him dispassionately, thin arms crossed and clad in an overlarge sweater that made her look sickly thin. Behind her stood two people he did recognize, the man from the dojo and the woman who’d taken him, looking every bit the hired mercenaries. Jason was furious at himself for not connected the dots sooner before he’d given them the chance to reach him. His kidnapper smirked and if Jason wasn’t scared shitless he would have flipped her off. 

“Good, you’re awake,” the small woman said with a small smile that was almost kind, though it clearly didn’t reach her pale blue eyes. Jason winced in discomfort. Her voice carried a high, nasally pitch that did absolutely nothing for his aching head. She glanced over her shoulder, long unkempt hair brushing along her protruding collarbone. “Help him up.” 

Jason tensed as the man moved to follow the order–request?–unlocking the cell and striding inside. Jason tried to force himself to rise despite his abused body’s protests, but the female mercenary pointed a very familiar gun at his heart as she stood lazily by. Jason fell still, never taking his eyes off it, the tremor in his hands betrayed by the rattle of his restriction.

“Careful, Sean, this one can fight,” she drawled. 

“I know,” the man grunted, unimpressed. He stopped in front of the cot, eyeing Jason as he would a stray dog who was just as likely to bite him as run. “I’m the one who told you that. Now, don’t move, kid, or I’ll be forced to hurt you.” He reached for Jason’s arm and Jason flinched, trying to press himself through the unforgiving wall behind him. The man wouldn’t be swayed, grabbing his wrist forcefully enough to leave imprints in his skin and pulling a key from his pocket. 

Jason’s chest seized as he suddenly found it difficult to breathe, prone beneath the man and cringing as he felt his captor’s body heat wash over his frigid skin. Jason realized suddenly that he was _freezing,_ his thin, bloodstained shirt doing nothing to keep out the chill and jacket long gone. It wouldn’t have registered at all with how addled he felt but for the full-body shivers that he was powerless to stop – and the fact that this threatening stranger was _touching his bare skin_ while Jason could do nothing about it. His nerves prickled and crawled as he barely tolerated the touch without wretching, knowing that any resistance would likely be met with violence he couldn’t afford. 

The chain finally came loose and Sean pocketed the handcuffs, blessedly moving out of Jason’s space once again. Jason jerked his wrist to his chest, massaging the bruise already forming as Sean backed off, pulling his own pistol–rather pointlessly. As if one gun wasn’t enough! “Get up.” 

Begrudgingly, Jason struggled into a sitting position at the clear tone of command. Shaking, he waited for the room to stop spinning. It didn’t. With a groan, he realized that he didn’t have much of a choice and pushed himself to his feet anyway. 

The room lurched. His knees felt weak, but somehow he kept his balance and stood, wrapping his arms around his middle to try and stave off the chill. He shivered as he watched them all warily, cringing when the slight woman spoke. 

“Vic, how much did you give him?” she said, eyes narrowing as she scanned Jason head to toe. 

“Enough,” the woman who’d kidnapped Jason snapped, clenching her wide jaw, immediately defensive at the criticism. “I didn’t want him waking up on the drive over, okay? Next time, why don’t _you_ –” her mouth snapped shut when the much slighter woman smiled in her direction, the expression out of place in its brightness. Something about the mousy woman made Jason uncomfortable aside from the obvious, and it seemed that his kidnapper felt the same, falling silent beneath her unnerving regard. Jason had to wonder how the small figure could inspire such command at not even half of any of their sizes, and yet the bright quality of her too pale eyes seemed to speak to some inner cruelty hidden beneath the childlike innocence she portrayed. She seemed...unhinged. And her next words only incriminated her further.

“You know I need him in good condition,” she scolded; as if the mercenary that could only be a few years younger and outweighed her twice over were a misbehaving child in need of a good reprimand. Judging by the affronted stare of the taller woman–Vic, she’d called her–the sentiment was not appreciated in the least. “Now we’re going to have to wait to get started.” 

“Wh-what do you want from me?” Jason said against his better judgment. 

This time when the woman looked his way, it was with a feverish excitement that made Jason’s stomach curdle with dread. “You’ll see, darling, don’t you fret.” Dismissing him then, she said off-hand, “Make him presentable and bring him to the recording room, would you? I have a schedule to keep.” 

The click of her heels echoed down the hall, leaving Jason alone with his kidnappers. He watched them with wide eyes, heart attempting to escape his chest, but neither made a move until the sound of her footsteps faded into silence. 

Vic released a gusty breath, slumping against the wall in clear relief. “Fuck, but that bitch is insane.” 

Sean snorted before saying drolly, “That’s what you get for your incessant bitching. How many times do I have to tell you that that attitude of yours is going to get you killed?” 

“Just one more time,” Vic retorted easily, a banter that sounded well-worn between them. 

“Uhm,” Jason mumbled when neither made a move to ‘make him presentable’. He cleared his throat to regain their lazed attention. Clearly they didn’t consider him a threat, and if Jason was being honest with himself, he wasn't much of one either way in his condition. He could barely keep his feet as it was. “Who are you people?”

“ _We_ aren’t anybody, kid.” Sean gestured to the door. “It’s crazy over there you have to worry about. Now get on the bed, let’s make this quick.” 

Jason _really_ didn't think that was a good idea. “Who is she?” he asked instead of following that order. 

Vic snorted. “You’ll find out soon enough. She likes to monologue. Now get on the bed before we _make_ you. No reason this has to be unpleasant.”

Still, Jason hesitated. If they couldn’t actually hurt him, then maybe–

“Uhn!” He grunted as he was pushed roughly back onto the cot, air whooshing out of his lungs. 

“What did I tell you about hesitating, brat?” Vic snickered. “Now hold still!”

Jason couldn’t focus his eyes, the room stubbornly starting its mad dance again despite how he blinked at it. He was feeling worse again and slamming his head against the hard cot probably hadn’t helped. He was hardly given time to recover before an unwelcome touch grasped the loose hair beside his face. Jason hissed at the sting as it pulled away from the dried blood still clinging to his skin. 

“Shit, what’d you hit him with?” 

“Pistol.” 

A heavy sigh. “We’re going to get docked for this. Whatever, it’ll do.” 

Jason whimpered as fingers dug into the wound that had only just begun to heal, throbbing all over again as the scab was ripped away. Warmth washed over the side of his face as hot blood trickled down his temple, his jaw, down his collar bone to drench his already filthy shirt. Jason smacked the hands away weakly, pressing himself against the wall to try to regain his equilibrium. It got a little harder when crimson flooded one of his eyes, painting the world in macabre monochrome. 

Sean looked impressed at the carnage. “Well, that works.” 

“No shit. Think that’s enough?” 

“Probably. Just got to scare the fucker, is all.” 

Sean grabbed for Jason again, pulling him roughly to his feet, and Jason was getting _really_ tired of being manhandled. But he didn’t have much of a choice, leaning heavily into the other man’s support as his legs gave out. Fuck, he couldn’t even walk. How much longer was this drug going to last?

“Ugh, ew. You’re getting blood all over the place.” 

“Whose fault is that?” Jason slurred incredulously, and Vic laughed. 

“Finally showing some pluck, huh? I hope you give that bitch trouble later. Not that we care. We’re getting paid and then getting the hell out of here after this.”

Jason was lead from the room, half stumbling and half dragged against Sean’s sturdy frame. He tried to look around as he was moved but there were only a few other cells in this hallway. Peering inside revealed them to be empty and in equal disrepair. It appeared that he was the only one being held here, at least in this wing. 

He left a gruesome crimson stain where he walked, his wound dripping and smearing on the dull white floor. Shit, he was already out of it from being roofied and now he could add blood loss to the mix. The bright color against scuffed grey made his stomach turn.

After what felt like ages, they arrived at a blank door and dragged him inside. It was spartan, the walls white and the floor worn. Across from the single chair in the center stood a camera on a tripod. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Jason mumbled, heart sinking. What was this, a cheap movie? Were they going to record him all beat up and demand a ransom like some B-rated Hollywood knockoff?

Vic outright laughed at that as Sean shoved Jason onto the chair. He pulled out the handcuffs from earlier and before Jason knew it he was once again secured. “That’s what _I_ said,” she cackled, patting him on the head like she would an adorable pet, and Jason was just so _glad_ that she found all of this amusing. “The doctor does have a flair for the dramatic, I’ll give her that much. Now sit there and look pretty.” She pulled on black gloves and a pair of ski goggles of all things before striding around Jason’s chair to stand at his back. He inhaled sharply as gloved fingers curled around his throat to lift his chin, her other hand pulling a knife from who knows where and holding it about half an inch from his stuttering pulse. “Now hold still, I don’t want to ruin your pretty face more than I already have.” Jason resisted the urge to swallow, fearful that even that much would send him to an early end. 

Sean walked over to the camera, looking tired and longsuffering, the lines around his mouth deepening by the minute. He looked like a man who hadn’t had much opportunity to smile in his life. “Let’s just get this over with.” A little red light appeared, the lense narrowing and contracting as it focused. 

Jason’s heart pounded, acutely aware of the knife hovering just over his trachea. B-rated movie or not, this was happening and it was all too real. 

“What’s your name?” Sean drawled, sounding like he’d rather be anywhere else. 

Jason’s eyes flickered to him, then to the camera. He swallowed roughly, fighting to find his voice but flinched when his skin made contact with the blade, drawing a bead of blood to add to the mess already congealing down his neck. 

“Wrong answer,” Vic sang before shifting the knife to hover centimeters from his right eye. Jason jerked but there was nowhere to go but into Vic’s sturdy chest, breath coming in short gasps as his dilating pupils tried and failed to focus on the blade so close to one of the most vulnerable parts of him. “Try again.” They were serious, _fuck_ , they were serious. 

“J-Jason Cruz,” he gasped, body shaking hard despite his attempts to stem it. If he so much as twitched he would lose his sight. 

“That’s better,” she cooed, minty breath washing over his sweat-damp cheek. After this, he may never be able to stomach mint again. “Be a good boy and this will be over quick.” 

“Who is your father?” Sean drawled as if he wasn’t enabling his partner to threaten Jason with casual violence. 

“Matthew Cruz,” Jason near whispered in response, unable to take his eyes off the blade.

Sean nodded, though he wasn’t in view of the camera. He looked bored, and Jason wondered how much of a sociopath you had to be able to participate in something like this and not bat an eye. “Right, if twenty billion dollars is not sent to–” he rattled off a series of numbers, a bank account, “by the tenth of September, then Jason Cruz will die.”

“No, no, no,” Vic whined in a voice that grated against Jason’s frayed nerves. Insane. They were _insane._ “Not like that! How do you expect anyone to take you seriously if you sound _bored?”_

Jason could hardly hear anything beyond the sudden ringing in his ears. Twenty _billion_ dollars? He was pretty sure his father’s net worth wasn’t nearly that high, and he sure as fuck wasn’t going to just _give_ that to these terrorists! Who did they think he _was_? Matthew owned a minor car manufacturing company _,_ not _Tesla!_

 _If he doesn’t, I’ll die,_ Jason thought with dismay. If he was being perfectly honest with himself, he wasn’t sure that his father would pay up even if he could, despite the threat to his son’s life. Actually, forget that, he _couldn’t_ pay that much. This was insane!

“What the hell is wrong with you people, my dad doesn’t _have_ twenty billion dollars,” Jason blurted over whatever Sean was about to say. The man smirked, amused by Jason’s outburst. 

“Oh, he can. You have no idea who he is, do you?” Jason’s brows drew together. What did he mean by that? “Doesn’t really matter. You’re not going home either way.” 

Vic grunted petulantly. “Whatever. We’re done, I guess. Let’s just give the vid to the witch so we can get out of here already.”

“Agreed,” Sean nodded, turning off the camera. “This place gives me the creeps.”

Jason didn't put up a fight as he was moved back to his cell, didn’t so much as peep protest as he was once again chained to the bed. He was too exhausted and sick to do much of anything, tacky blood drying on his skin and body feverish. He reeled, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. Why did these guys think his dad had so much cash? And what did he mean by saying that Jason wasn’t going home even if Matthew did manage to pay?

“What do you think it means, idiot?” Jason mumbled to himself, words echoing forlornly off concrete walls. 

If he didn’t find a way out of here, he was going to die.

* * *

The next time Jason woke, he felt significantly better. The pounding in his head had diminished quite a bit, though the dripping of the faucet had not, much to his annoyance. His stomach had settled as well, but it was a small blessing as he realized he was starving, abdomen caved in and ravenous. 

He still had no idea what time it was, or how long he’d been here. He’d half hoped that this was all just a fever dream and he’d wake up in his apartment with his alarm going off to signify the start of another mundane day. Alas, the world was not so kind, the pain in his body dismissing that fantasy in an instant. His arm ached something fierce from being forced into an awkward position for so long, the chain rattling loudly as he tried to move it. He clenched his numb fingers with a grimace of discomfort and sat up slowly, carefully, wincing as his shoulder spasmed, but was eventually upright enough to massage feeling back into his abused limb.

With a sigh, Jason contemplated whether it was a good thing or not that they hadn’t come to bother him ye–

Cold, hungry eyes froze the blood in Jason’s veins as he realized he was very much not alone. 

Jason jerked back in shock, nearly crawling out of his skin as hair raised on the back of his neck. A man stood on the other side of the bars, watching him silently with a small, vacant smile on too thin lips, grey hair wild and untamed on his sweaty forehead. A vagabond, Jason thought at first, with his malnourished hue and clothes that had clearly seen better days. Did this old place also house a crack den or something? Jason almost preferred Vic and Sean over this man’s blank stare, because they at least seemed to actually _see_ him. 

“Who are you?” Jason tried to ask but started hacking instead when his throat seized, head pounding with every convulsion. He was _parched_ and with each cough, his throat only got tighter. He gazed longingly at the dripping faucet, wondering if they’d left it like that to torture him with water just out of his reach. 

Instead of answering, the man turned and walked away with an uneven gait, leaving Jason even more unsettled. What was that about? 

Before he could so much as glance at his handcuff, the man returned, this time with a grocery bag. Jason watched him warily as he set the bag on the floor and stood again. He shoved his hand into his jacket and fiddled around until he pulled out an iron ring, old-style keys jangling dully. Bizarrely, he placed the ring between his yellowed teeth and felt along the edges of each key, eyes locked somewhere far off. Jason raised his brow, bewildered, then it hit him as he examined the stranger more closely. 

The man couldn’t move one of his arms. 

It wasn’t obvious at first, but now that Jason was looking he could see the way the jacket he wore folded in on itself around his left shoulder, his appendage hanging limply. What little of a hand he could see poking from the sleeve looked atrophied, skeletal, as if it had died and rotted at his side instead of being removed. Jason averted his eyes, horrified. 

Eventually, with a patience that was probably born of many years of practice, the man selected the correct key and unlocked Jason’s cell. Allowing the door to swing open on its own, the man bent over and carefully picked up the bag again, shuffling inside. Jason scooted back on the cot as he approached, not sure whether this man intended to harm him and unwilling to provoke him to find out. 

The closer he got, the more uncomfortable Jason became, and not just because he may attack. There was something about his face…

“Uh,” Jason croaked as the man placed the bag on the bed before straightening and turning toward the door, as if giving provisions to people kept against their will was a daily, mundane task for him. “Wait,” Jason tried again but regretted it instantly when the man finally looked up to acknowledge him. Feverish _hunger_ twisted the stranger’s features as sudden as flipping a switch, impassivity gone in place of disconcerting desire as if he would devour Jason where he sat.

Then Jason saw it; the scars paler than his paper-white skin latticing half the stranger’s face, as unresponsive as his mutilated arm. Jason blanched at the pure malice in the one eye able to focus while the other remained dilated and cloudy. The man jerked forward suddenly and Jason gasped, leaning as far away as he could as his space was invaded. “This one’s gonna be the breakthrough she needs,” he said with a grating drawl that Jason could barely understand, staring right through Jason to horrors only he could see. He smiled grotesquely then, scars pulling so much that his aged, thin skin strained as if it might burst open and reveal the meager muscle beneath. Jason couldn’t breathe, reeling from the man’s fetid breath. What the fuck, _what the fuck?_ “It’s gonna–it’ll work this time–she _promised–_ ” The crazed man fell silent, smile falling abruptly as he stood back to his stooped height. He mumbled to himself unintelligibly before turning away and shuffling towards the door, locking it behind him with a resolute _slam_. 

Jason released the breath he was holding the second he could no longer hear the man’s uneven shuffle, anxiety twisting to block his throat. He had to get out of here, he _had_ to. He pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his free arm around it, hiding his face to calm down while his stomach tried valiantly to expel its nonexistent contents. It was some time before he could unclench his shaking shoulders enough to move. 

Cautiously, he looked up, wincing as he did so. But no man stood at his cell door. He was alone. 

For now. 

The bag contained little, only a bottle of water and a packaged gas station sandwich. Still, his hunger surged sharply at the meager meal. He grabbed the bottled water first, making dead certain that it was still sealed before he drank any of it. It opened with a reassuring snap and he downed it immediately, nearly choking in his haste to quench his burning throat. He eyed the sandwich next. It was wrapped in plastic, not exactly sealed. Still, he figured that he’d been unconscious long enough that if they’d wanted to drug him, they would have already done so. He forced down the bland food, grimacing when he found it stale, but couldn’t afford to be picky at this point. 

Hunger somewhat sated, Jason finally allowed himself to think about what the man implied. It sounded mostly like mad ravings, but even so, he wasn’t going to dismiss it. They wanted Jason for his father’s money but had no intention to return him. And now, the woman who held him captive was going to use him for some sort of breakthrough. 

A doctor, Sean had called her. Jason was really starting to dread where all this was going. 

He laid back to try and get some rest, careful not to jostle his aching wrist too much and tried his best not to imagine all the gruesome possibilities.

Sometime later, Jason received another visitor, announced by her sharp heels on the concrete floor. Jason didn’t move, only opening his eyes to glare warily. She stopped in front of his cell, much as the other man had, but didn't take the time to observe Jason before speaking abruptly.

“How do you feel?” she asked in her thin, reedy voice, still with the vague veneer of ingenuine courtesy.

 _How do you think?_ Jason thought acerbically. He ached from repeated bouts of punishing adrenaline and sitting still too long, and he had to piss like nobody’s business. 

His glare seemed to be all the answer she needed because she unlocked the cell door and strode confidently inside. Jason tensed as she approached. “Your father has agreed to my demands. Lucky me, lucky me,” she said, pulling something from her pocket. Jason’s eyes widened as he recognized the small square device. He dropped his legs and tried to get to his feet, but she was too fast, aiming the weapon at him and firing. 

Jason’s muscles seized as a loud _crackle_ rent the air, the taser sending sparks of agony radiating from the point where the tines dug into his skin. His jaw clenched around the scream that came out as more of an agonized growl, body going rigid and collapsing against the cot. He twitched, vision going white as he lost the ability to move, shocked literally and figuratively.

After a few seconds, he could hear again, the woman still chattering uninterrupted as she unlocked his handcuffs. “–money, I’ll be able to start the next phase, isn’t that exciting? Now, relieve yourself and come with me, we have work to do!” 

She backed off as soon as he was released, at least sane enough to keep her distance from someone who so drastically outweighed her. Jason could do nothing but twitch for several moments, but soon enough the shock wore off, leaving him limp and shaken. He stared at her in disbelief. She hadn’t warned him, he hadn’t done anything to instigate that, what the _fuck?_ He could see in her eyes though, that she didn’t care one lick what he thought of her, smile vapid and taser at the ready. “Come on, come on, we don’t have much time.” She gestured with the weapon and he glanced between her and the toilet, aghast. What, really? She wanted him to...in front of her? She gestured again, this time a little more impatiently and Jason knew without a doubt that she wouldn’t hesitate to tase him again if he didn’t comply. Face burning with humiliation, he turned his back on her and relieved himself into the commode as she demanded, wincing at how loud the liquid splash echoed in the room. If he hadn’t been so full to bursting he probably wouldn’t have been able to do it at all, not with the avid way she stared at him, an owner waiting impatiently for her dog to piss so it wouldn’t have an accident.

Jason realized that’s exactly what he was; a chained animal for this woman’s use. He clenched his jaw to stem the stinging of his eyes. Crying wouldn’t do anything but waste what precious liquids he had, and the last thing he wanted to do was show her weakness when he knew it would only give her more power. 

Unpleasant task done, he barely had time to tuck himself away before she was ushering him towards the door. 

Unprompted, she began talking, and Jason immediately understood what Vic meant about the monologuing. Her words rose and fell between manic and sullen as quickly as she took a breath between phrases and Jason could only watch warily as she gestured expansively with the device that could immobilize him at any moment. “I thought I was going to have to find an alternative when you nearly died of overdose – how _stupid_ could those gorillas be? How _inconvenient_ it would have been to find a replacement at this stage. But now that you’re fit and your generous father has agreed to pay, we can get to work. Oh, you’re going to love it! The augmentation is truly special this time, not like the others.” Jason’s skin crawled as she prodded him down the empty hallway, flinching at her every touch. He wanted to look back, but didn’t want to provoke her into attacking him again, struggling to focus on her squeaky voice. “–some minor issues with severe nerve damage in the last subject–” Wait, _what?_ “–died, but I think we’re ready to try again.”

They reached yet another door at the end of the hall and Jason was made to push it open. He blanched, truly beginning to realize he wouldn't be walking away from this. 

Unlike the other rooms in this desolate building, this one was in use, and disturbingly recently. Mismatched shelves lined the walls, gleaming with metal tools that Jason really didn’t want to know the purpose of. For the sake of his sanity didn’t dare look too closely, eyes skittering away in panicked denial. 

Only to meet the empty gaze of a figure standing in the far corner of the room. 

Jason tensed before realizing that it was not, in fact, another living, breathing lunatic, but a mannequin. It hardly eased him to realize that, though, when he noticed how poor its condition was, as if it had been beaten with a crowbar before being set aflame. A gleam of metal peeked over its torso, secured by a leather harness barely clinging to its diminished frame, a half-melted arm lying grotesquely at its feet. The figure stared with blank, accusing eyes, and Jason felt them on him like a portent of death. 

The most alarming thing about the room, however, wasn’t the abused doll or even the cloying stench of rot that Jason could taste on the back of his tongue like an illness.

It was the metal table that stood proudly in its center, cold steel and stained with what Jason could only imagine was the remains of past victims. Cruel restraints hung limply off the edge, swaying softly in the nonexistent breeze with a life of their own, as if waiting to spring forth and ensnare those foolish enough to wander within reach. 

Jason’s vision narrowed to a fine point, a dull ringing blocking out the pounding of his heart.

He had to get out of here. NOW. 

Spinning on his heel abruptly, he lashed out with as much force as he was capable in his state, no plan or grace, just the desperation to _get away_. 

She shouted as the blow glanced off her shoulder, his aim off. Still, it did its job, spinning her around and slamming her into the wall. Jason didn’t wait for her to recover, pushing past her and sprinting down the hall. She shrieked after him, enraged, but he couldn’t hear her pursuit over the slapping of his bare feet against the cold floor and the rushing in his ears. Had to get out, had to get out–

He burst through one door, then another, finding equally abandoned rooms one by one. All dead ends. His chest heaved with the effort of his flight, throat constricting and body weak from abuse and hardly refueled by the meager meal he’d been allowed. Another shriek sounded from _too close_ behind and he panicked, forcing open another door. Empty, with no way out. _Dammit!_

There wasn’t a single window past any of the identical doors he burst through. Was this actually hell? Had Jason died and ended up in eternal damnation, a horrible purgatory with a monster to pursue him through the abandoned, frustratingly identical halls? If so, what terrible crime had he committed in his life to deserve _this?_ Like a nightmare, his body slowed along with his perception of time, energy flagging and flight reflex the only thing standing between him and collapse. 

The click of heels, steady and immeasurably loud to his addled mind had Jason putting on another burst of speed with energy he didn’t have. He cursed breathlessly for going in circles when he found himself back in front of the cells. 

But wait. That couldn’t be right. He’d gone the opposite direction. This was a different wing than the one where he’d been imprisoned. _Right?_ Unless he _was_ going in circles and he’d already lost his mind far below the earth where the sun couldn’t reach. He needed to turn around, needed to go back–

The clicking sounded louder now, and Jason knew that turning back wasn’t an option. He despaired that there truly was no way out of this hell when he registered a door at the end of the hall with the universal sign for ‘stairs’ painted faintly on its aged grey surface. His chest surged with hope and he made for it, a last-ditch effort from his failing limbs. 

A small sound pierced through the rush of Jason’s fevered breaths, and for a moment he didn’t register it. But it came again. Breath halting and feet stumbling to a stop as if weighed down by lead, Jason paused in his flight. The world went silent as he stood perfectly still, at first not understanding just what he’d heard. Until, with a suffocation blanket of dread, he recognized the desolate sound of a voice, breathy and small...crying.

Someone was in this hell-hole other than him. 

Jason slowly turned his back on the last barrier between himself and freedom to peer into the last cell with dawning horror. 

A small form huddled in the corner of the room, just beyond the shadow of the cell bars. Thin, pale arms wrapped around equally thin legs, a matted blond head tucked between them as if it could somehow block out the cruelty of the world. It was a position Jason had found himself in not too long ago, though while he had done so in tension and fear, the figure before him was collapsed on themselves, resigned and curled not in an effort to ward off danger, but to hold the broken pieces of themselves together. 

_A child_ , a frightfully small voice whispered in Jason’s mind, _a_ **_child_** **.**

Jason didn’t know what sound he made when he realized it, but it must have been terrifying because the child–no older than maybe seven or eight–flinched and curled tighter. Jason stumbled to the bars to look closer, a thin layer of frost slowing the beat of his heart until it solidified into black ice that numbed him to every corner of his soul. He couldn’t see the–boy’s?– entire body, but he looked emaciated, _starving,_ naked save for the shorts that preserved what little dignity he had. If Jason felt cold, this child must have been _freezing_ because he didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. 

“What the _fuck,”_ Jason whispered with shaking breath. He pressed himself against the bars to support his weak knees. The child whimpered and looked up at the sound of his voice. Jason gasped as their eyes met, instinctively cringing away from what could only be some dreadful dream forged by his overwrought mind to torture him. 

One crystal blue peered from the darkness, wet with tears and dilated with fear. The other...it wasn’t human. Demonic red glowed dully from a black orb the likes of which Jason had never seen, most of the detail hidden from him by shadow and the boy's shielding arms.

But more shocking than that were the _scars._

As if his eye had been carved out with a knife in the hands of a rather sadistic butcher, pink, roped skin disfiguring the entire left side of the child’s face, stopping just above his pale, pinched lips tinged blue from the cold. 

Every fiber of Jason’s being rebelled at the sight, felt like a stranger in his own skin because he never could have imagined _this_ , the world warping to something unrecognizable, violent, _wrong._ His eyes filled with hot, heavy tears and he fell to his knees, hands gripping the bars so tightly that they bleached as white as the child’s sickly pale skin. 

“Hey,” he rasped weakly, voice wrecked and lip bitten until it bled. “Hey, are you alright?”

The boy just stared with haunted eyes and quaking shoulders and Jason kicked himself. Of course the boy wasn’t alright! From what he’d already experienced, Jason could imagine with vivid, horribly clarity the way the child had been treated, his sad tale inscribed in the scars on his skin and the stark protrusion of his every joint. Scrambling to his feet in an overpowering instinct to _fix this_ , Jason fumbled with the door but found it frustratingly secured. He struggled with the rusted lock anyway, even knowing that he couldn’t hope to sway indomitable iron with nothing but his shaking fingers and scattered reason. “Shh, it’s alright,” he reassured, though his voice sounded anything but comforting when he didn’t believe the words himself. “I’m–I’m going to get you out of here. Can you stand?” 

The boy didn’t respond and Jason looked around helplessly for something he could use to break the lock. But there was nothing. 

“There you are!” 

Jason jerked around as his pursuer finally caught up with him, vision narrowing in a red haze on the wide, white smile that pulled her thin skin taut with insane glee. She didn’t look angry at all despite that he’d attacked her, but rather like a ravenous predator about to make an easy kill. Jason backed towards the door, thoughts scattering and heart skipping several beats.

But a whimper stopped him in his tracks. 

She advanced, her steps peals of thunder and Jason fought against his every impulse to flee. What he’d seen in that room terrified him, her plans for him becoming clear as if the child were a gruesome painting of Jason’s future if he didn’t get out of here _now._ He wanted to run, could already taste the free air, but...he didn’t. He could hear the way the child’s breath sped up, could sense his fear even more acutely than Jason's own. It burned in the back of his throat, stung his eyes. Seeing a child in a cage like that – _hurt_ in ways that Jason couldn’t fully comprehend.

Wrong.

So _wrong_ and Jason _shook_ with it, something in his soul shattering and tearing loose only to reform in a new bewildering tangle that he couldn’t parse past base instincts pulled from somewhere deep in his blood. Something fiercer than the fear for himself screeched in Jason’s mind when the boy caught sight of his tormentor and _whimpered_ with the soul-wrenching desolation of a wounded animal that knew more abuse awaited and was powerless to stop it. Something deep inside Jason’s core _clicked_ into place. His world shifted, spinning and reorienting its axis to revolve around one simple truth; he wouldn’t leave the boy. The door no longer mattered, and neither did his own plight. He straightened, eyes hardening and heart slowing. He didn’t know if he could do this. He was hurting, tired, weak, and she had a weapon. But he had to _try._

The woman probably had a key. He would only have one chance to take her out before she tased him again, and he had to make it count or both he and the child would be lost. 

She stalked forward as if she had all the time in the world. Maybe she did, utterly confident that she could subdue Jason. She slipped a hand into her pocket, eyes manic as she watched him. Jason tensed, readying himself to dodge, the next moment determining whether he died in this hellhole or got to make this demon _pay._

He never got the chance. 

Two things happened in quick succession. One, Jason heard the unmistakable sound of a door opening. The second was the child’s voice, clear and sharp as shattering glass – _“NO!”_ – before Jason’s world exploded with pain. Light flashed behind his eyes and the ground reached up to swallow him. 

* * *

Cold, hard ice along his front was the only thing he could register as he came too after once again suffering a blow to the head. It tasted bitter, like the copper tang of blood that seemed to coat him inside and out as, for the third time in this horrible, Godforsaken week, Jason woke to a pounding headache. He _really_ needed to stop getting hit over the head or he was going to lose what little brain cells he had left. He groaned, long and guttural, fighting nausea as the room persisted in its dizzying dance. 

“You’re awake! Wonderful!” a high voice enthused, and Jason jumped, coming into full awareness in an instant. His arms jerked, but he found himself completely restrained. Immediately he struggled, but there was no give, hard leather against his bare skin so restrictive he could barely breathe _._

“Now, now, you’ll hurt yourself! We can’t have that.” 

Jason’s eyes rolled in their sockets as he struggled to take in his surroundings. To his horror, he found himself face-down on the table he’d fled from, steel cold enough to burn against his bare skin and panicked breath misting against the opaque surface. Hovering over him was the woman, hands folded before her face in delight and blue eyes fever bright with madness. Her sleeves were rolled up, knitted sweater bunched around her too thin elbows and blue medical grade gloves clinging to her spindly hands. 

“Wha–what–” Jason tried, but he couldn’t force the words out past his chattering teeth. 

“I was getting to that before you rudely ran off,” the woman scolded. “Now be quiet or I’ll be forced to gag you, and that would really put a damper on things, wouldn’t it?” She left his line of sight and Jason could barely breathe. Metal clattered against metal as she moved behind him, chatting all the while as if having a casual coffee date with a friend. “Exciting tidings today. Imagine how much research I can get done with the funding your father provided, oh! I can’t wait!” She giggled, high and breathy. “I have an interesting client this time. I believe you already met; he was nice enough to deliver your lunch. A fascinating fellow, Mr. Marvin. Massive nerve damage on the left side of his body, particularly his shoulder and face. Severed in some war or other, the poor dear. I don’t know how he heard about me but it was providence he did! It gave me the inspiration to start a new project, and you should know that I only take on _interesting_ cases–”

“Who are you?” Jason demanded, voice breaking. He tried again to lift himself but to no avail, restraints creaking mockingly against steel. 

“Well, if you would stop _interrupting,”_ she said longsufferingly. “As I was saying– _kids_ these days–” more clattering, wheels going over the floor. Something small was stuck on Jason’s back and he shuddered, the unsteady beeping of a heart monitor filtering through the room. “You may call me Doctor Morose. Now hush. This procedure isn’t going to be easy I really need to concentrate!” Jason couldn’t help the way his heart jumped at the word ‘procedure’, the monitor announcing the change cheerily for all to hear. “You see, I wanted to try it out on a younger specimen before I attempted to help dear Mr. Marvin. Have to get it right, you understand. The first few tests went poorly, I admit, but I finally got the prosthetic eye functioning!” Jason’s chest hitched. The child. He’d nearly forgotten. He wanted to look around and see if the child had been moved with him, but he could no more move his head than he could block out the horror of her words. “It took a bit of trial and error but the current model is far superior to the others. Only time will tell if it will last considering the damage to the orbital, but it should be apparent before long whether it will take. Unfortunately, the specimen was too small to attempt Part Two. Luckily you were in such good shape that I could get both funding and a new, strong body to work on!” She ran her hands appreciatively over Jason’s form like one would a prized racing horse and Jason dry-heaved, nothing but a small amount of bile coating his tongue at her unwelcome touch. 

Jason was dizzy with disbelief, sure he was floating somewhere above his body as she continued to talk. She couldn’t be serious. She couldn’t _do_ this to people, it was wrong, wrong, _wrong–_ a slick substance was smeared over the shoulder Jason couldn’t see and he choked, eyes filling with helpless tears that obscured the white wall swaying drunkenly in his limited vision. She couldn’t _do_ this! A prick against his neck had Jason convulsing as some drug burned through his blood, searing his limbs and chest before he fell limp, limbs unresponsive. He tried to lift his head–do something, _anything_ – but couldn’t so much as twitch no matter how his mind screamed at him to _move._ “Wha–wh–”

“Now, I’m going to need you to tell me what you are feeling as we proceed, and be as precise as possible! I won't be able to put you under like I did the last specimen because nerves are a tricky business–” she devolved into incomprehensible mumbling Jason couldn’t have deciphered even if he hadn’t been reduced to his most basic animalistic instincts, “–equipment to monitor your synapses, but if all goes well the pain won’t last for very long in any case.” 

“What are you going to do?” Jason repeated in a strangled whisper, tongue swollen in his mouth and not wanting to know the answer but needing to _know_. 

“Glad you asked,” Morose giggled, as enthused as a professor answering her favorite student. “First I’m going to sever the same nerves that our own Mr. Marvin has damaged–” Jason heaved, eyes spotting around the edges. No, no, no she couldn’t _do_ this, he as a human being, _she couldn't do this._ She went on as if she didn’t notice his distress at all. Perhaps she didn’t. “Then I’m going to attach the experimental prosthetic I’ve designed. It _should_ replace the signals of the severed nerves and enhance your strength in a very similar way that adrenaline does, though I have to admit the last trial didn’t go quite according to plan.” Jason’s eyes locked onto the mannequin, burned and half-melted in the corner. The device that he’d seen earlier was gone, oh _God_ – “but I’m sure it will work this time! At least I hope so because it’s the last prototype that I have before I can rebuild with the new funding. Now hold still.” 

“No,” Jason whispered hoarsely, tears spilling over his damp cheeks as he felt the distinct edge of a knife against his trembling skin. She paused. “N-no, please, don’t do this, you _can’t.”_ The heart rate monitor went crazy, beats so fast it was nearly a white noise in the background, deafening.

“Tell me _exactly_ when you lose the feeling in your arm, m'kay?”

“No, you _can’t,_ I’m a _human being_ , you _can’t–”_ Jason’s words cut off into a guttural scream as the doctor made the first incision. White-hot fire raced down his side, freezing, burning, _agonizing,_ body paralyzed but he could feel every mind-shattering stroke. Hot liquid spilled down his side, over his shoulder to pool slick against the table below. Jason didn’t know where exactly she cut or how many incisions she made, the pain all-encompassing. Some primal side of Jason curled into himself as he howled, all sanity bundled into the back of his consciousness to protect what little of himself he had left. The crazy woman was humming– _humming_ –as she worked, heedless of Jason’s screams and he didn’t know what he was saying, only that it was some form of a plea for her to _stop, please, you can’t do this!_

“Ahah!” 

It stopped. 

Jason’s screaming halted, throat a distant ache to the agony that he’d just experienced. 

It was _gone._

He couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t feel anything. 

“There we are. Better?”

Jason didn’t hear her. Tears flowed freely from his wide eyes, expression slack. He couldn’t feel it. _He couldn’t feel it._

“Can you feel this?”

She may have done something, but Jason couldn’t tell. _“No,”_ he breathed. It wasn’t an answer to her question so much as a fervent denial for what he just couldn’t accept. She took it as such regardless, pleased.

“How about this?” she asked, giddy.

 _“No, no, no,”_ Jason whispered continuously now, emotionless, empty, weaker by the second. 

“Whoops, don’t go into shock now–oh, hell,” the woman cursed with a sigh. “No matter, you won’t need to be awake for this next part. Won’t be able to tell if it works for a while anyway.”

She must have given him something–perhaps on a part of him that no longer seemed to exist–because the room began spinning once again. Jason sank into it without protest, this time embracing the darkness as it took him. Only this time he hoped he wouldn’t wake.

* * *

**_“No!”_ **

**The book went flying, slamming into the other side of the alley with a sharp _crack._ It fell to the ground, unheeded by the man panicking across from it.**

**“I can’t, I can't, I _can’t,”_ Prompto whimpered, sinking down into his knees and grabbing his hair harshly. It stung, but no more than his eyes as they burned beneath his clenched lids. If he thought the last chapters had been bad, this one took his breath away, to the point of hyperventilation, to the point where he could no longer see the words behind the tears spilling down his face. **

**He couldn’t do it, couldn’t read anymore. His heart can’t take it. And yet Prompto burned with the need to continue because Jason escapes, he _knows_ he does. He _has_ to.**

**_It’s too late,_ a voice inside Prompto’s head wailed in despair, but he ignored it ruthlessly, pushing it down into a little ball of attrition in the back of his mind. It wasn’t. It couldn’t be too late. This couldn’t just be a story about his beloved being endlessly tortured, he _has_ to escape. **

**Panic clouded Prompto’s vision and suddenly his head was clamoring with bright colors, red, pain, helplessness and he gasped. The child’s face–a face that looked so much like his own–flashed in his mind and suddenly he was in another place.**

**-**

**_He groans, aching, the flashfires of pain no longer prevalent as he’s long gone numb. A black substance pumps sluggishly into his veins from the multitude of IVs that penetrate his skin. The substance is vile, squirming and violating his body, consuming his thoughts with whispers in the dark. He knows what it is, knows what the corruption is doing to him and is helpless to stop it. How long has he been here in the dark, in this place that smells of death? How long since he’s seen the sun or felt a gentle touch?_ **

**_A man stops before him, yellow eyes gleaming in the half-light, but he can no longer bring himself to struggle. It would do him no good other than to further damage his mangled limbs, thin and weak from constant abuse trapped against cold, unforgiving metal._ **

**_Fingers dance over his skin, ghosting over the IVs, passing heedlessly over the bruises and cuts. It makes his nerves crawl but he knows what’s coming next will be so, so much worse than the disgusting touches. Red flashes in the dark as his captor turns, holding something in his hands, raising a familiar fear Prompto has felt in relentless waves, a constant state now._ **

**_A mask. He can’t make out what color it is in the darkness, but he knows its dull green-grey, has faced it over and over again in service to his prince._ **

**_Before he’d been taken._ **

**_“No, no, please,” he whispers, though he knows it’s futile. His pleas had only ever been met with amused disdain._ **

**_“Come now, Prompto. You’re finally going to become what you were always meant to be,” a voice slithers through the heavy air, drenched with vitriol._ **

**_Prompto whimpers as the mask is slipped over his face, clicking into place. His world is consumed with black...then an all-encompassing red._ **

**_-_ **

**Prompto came out of the memory with a strangled gasp, clawing at the ground beneath his bowed head, utterly relieved as it came into focus and banished the phantoms. Bile and tears slipped down his chin and onto the ground below, unheeded as he struggled for air. He thought he was _free_ of these memories. Somewhere deep inside of him, a sharp pain echoes from a life long past.**

**It seems that some memories are too powerful to suppress.**

**But it hadn’t happened to _him,_** **just as this wasn’t happening to Jason, not really. Not if he could help it. He needed to keep reading.**

**_-_ **

Here's an image of Jason and the child. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I didn't make it clear before, this is Jason's original book. If Prompto hadn't napped him to Eos then this is how his life would have played out. Current!Prompto is reading this in chapters 48-50 of Hack, and this is his impressions of Jason's story. For the purposes of making the Guardian a cohesive unit of work, I may change some details and a little bit of redundancy for story flow purposes but it won't be enough to throw much off. 
> 
> For those of you not reading Hack, I...guess some of it won't make much sense. But you can just ignore Propto's bits (in bold) if you just want the original work. 
> 
> ANY support you could give me would be a huge help. I'm actually a little nervous about posting original fiction, so please be kind :D you guys are the best.


	3. Into the Fire

Despite his desires, Jason did indeed wake again. Eventually. 

He was in a constant state of discomfort, with an all-consuming fever that made him feel like his insides were aflame, skin sticky with sweat, blood, and his own vomit. He had been treated worse than an animal in a slaughterhouse with about as much autonomy. He felt hunger so acute it was unlike anything he had ever experienced because even in his most financially challenged state he’d at least been able to afford to eat twice a day. 

He didn’t care. 

He couldn’t feel it. 

A dull ache surrounded his left shoulder as if someone had run over him with an overhaul and then thrown it in reverse to spite him, a pain that radiated through every bone, nerve, and follicle. But that was where sensation ended, an open void at his side where it felt that not only his nerves but a part of his _soul_ had been severed, the empty weight left behind a taunting reminder that he’d once been whole. 

At some point when he’d been unconscious his arm had been wrapped tightly to his chest, white, stained gauze holding it immobile. He was glad for it, wanting nothing less than to look at the mess that his body had become. The lump of what was once his functioning limb was no more than a strange weight over his chest now, an extraneous bag of flesh rather than a part of him. He couldn’t feel anything, not the rasp of the abrasive fabric nor the mutilated lacerations on his shoulder and upper arm. He had no idea the extent of the damage that had been done, just that it had done its job; Morose may as well have cut off his arm and taped it back on for all that he could feel. And though it could not have possibly started to happen, he already felt like his limb was atrophying away, his strained mind going so far as to torture him with images of rot and decay, a waking nightmare fueled by watching too much graphic media of worst-case scenarios. 

Though he’d already been given a painfully clear image of what his future held in the form of Marvin’s skeletal fingers, dead and cold at his side...

Jason had never been particularly concerned when it came to his ‘looks’. He’d never found the point of considering if he was attractive because he rarely felt a physical attraction to others. Aesthetics didn't matter to him as much as whether or not he felt comfortable around someone—their words and actions, how they made him feel—so it wasn’t something he gave much thought. He realized now what a bald-faced lie that was now that he'd been marked forever, how much he'd taken his body for granted because for the first time in his life he truly felt _ugly._ Damaged. 

He felt like he never wanted anyone to look at him again. 

Worse than that, though, was that Jason's sense of self had always been _intrinsically_ tied to the condition of his body. His ability to move, to train, to do what he loved had been taken from him brutally and without warning, more swiftly than if God smote and sent Jason down to hell himself. He didn’t feel...human anymore. Fragile, as if a single touch might shatter him. It was hard for anything to matter to him now. His life, his family, his friends and the things he’d valued all seemed so far away, as if they’d never mattered to begin with. Now he was here, imprisoned and isolated with no escape from the colorless, painful spiral of his own mind.

It felt like waiting for death. 

Maybe that was all that was left for him now. Morose said she wouldn’t know if her device ‘worked’ for a while, but he could only assume she failed. Whatever she’d attached to him—the strange triangle of metal and circuits that he’d seen before now unevenly embedded into his flesh like a car repaired with the wrong parts—hadn’t restored feeling or movement to his arm. Perhaps when she realized that the experiment was a failure, she would put a bullet between Jason’s eyes and put him out of his misery, take her machine back and try again on another poor soul that wandered into her trap. 

Jason knew in his heart that he would prefer a quick end over facing another one of her ‘procedures’, and now all he could do was regret that he hadn’t tried harder to escape while he had the chance. 

In his weakened condition, Jason no longer had that option. Worse, his father had somehow managed to give that vile woman the funding she demanded. Jason found himself mildly surprised that Matthew had even bothered, but then again, it was likely not born of love or some sort of familial commitment. No, his father was nothing if not pragmatic. After all, what was the pittance of a few billion in the face of losing his only heir? Anything for his fucking _legacy._ It wouldn’t even matter to him that Morose would use it to continue her inhumane experiments.

At that moment, more than Morose, or this situation, or _anything_ else, Jason hated his father. _Hated_ him. The bastard was the reason he was in this predicament in the first place and now he would be the reason that more innocents would go through the same wretched fate as Jason had.

As that child had.

Pale, crystal blue flashed through Jason’s thoughts and he blinked slowly, the most he’d moved in hours. His sluggish heart twinged, a pale echo of what he’d felt before when he’d first met that pair of mismatched eyes. 

That poor child...if this is what Jason had been through, he could only imagine what it must have been like to have an _eye_ removed. And he was so _young—_ too young to have been treated, _disfigured_ , like that. It made Jason sick to think about it and he swallowed, vision clearing just a little more. Had he been forced to endure it awake, as Jason had? Had he _screamed,_ as Jason had? Had he passed out while his cries and humanity were denied, treated as nothing more than a toy for cruel adult’s blind ambition? 

Jason was haunted by Morose’s childish delight as she worked. Had she sneered down at the boy as well while faking reassurance she didn’t mean, shushing him through the screams as she asked _‘Now, can you feel this?’_

Maybe Jason couldn’t face what had been done to him just yet, but he could feel the hot acid of his anger swell up for the sake of the innocent that had done nothing to deserve this. 

A sound echoed down the dark hallway, hanging heavy on the air like the deafening rush of the ocean—an unmistakable cry of pain. Jason tensed, sitting up suddenly as his heart wrenched more fiercely than his ruined wrist against his cuffs. It came again, just as quiet but piercing through him more easily than the doctor’s scalpel on his skin. The boy. She was torturing the boy _right now._

Just like that, all thoughts of himself were blown from Jason's mind. His pain, his doubt, his self-pity were gone, leaving nothing but the echo of that child's voice behind.

Jason growled through his teeth, low and _feral,_ every bit the animal that they’d made him feel, paralyzing apathy banished in a storm of crimson _denial_. Some latent instinct within him reared its head fiercely, made him fight all the more desperately against his bonds, awakened in him something he’d never thought he’d experience in his life. Not Jason, of all people, who had never believed he was _for_ this. Yet the call of the child was stronger than any instinct he’d ever known and Jason used it to wash his blood of fear.

That's right. He couldn't give up, because this was no longer about him—and at that moment, it almost felt like it never had been. That child was in danger, _needed_ Jason because no one else was going to save him and Jason used that thought to fuel his quickening breath and harden his resolve. He no longer cared if he didn’t stand a chance, didn’t give a _damn_ if he got hurt anymore.

He no longer had anything left to lose. 

Footsteps came down the hall, barely audible over the adrenaline rushing in Jason’s ears and he zeroed in on it, limbs stinging as he tensed. _Good,_ he thought viciously. This was it, the chance he needed. The next person that walked through that door and tried to touch him was _dead._ He got to his feet, anticipating the unsuspecting waste of humanity that would ensure his escape from this hellish place. Some small part of Jason cringed at the back of his mind, fearful of this uncharacteristic urge for violence, to _hurt_ someone else. But a much larger part of him, the one born of abuse and fear savored it like the sweetest of flavors on his tongue, wanted it more acutely than anything he’d ever wanted in his life; not just for survival, but to make them pay for what they did to him, what they were _still doing_ to that child. 

The footsteps drew nearer. Who was it going to be? The crazy bitch? The sociopath that inspired her to do this to them in the first place? Jason decided that he didn’t care. No matter who walked through that door, he was going to get out of here and he was going to take the child with him.

But it wasn’t either of those sorry excuses for people. Instead, it was someone Jason was genuinely not expecting to see again, shocking him enough to set the world off-kilter and stall his thoughts. Thrown, Jason rocked back on his heels, the haze of red receding from his eyes and reducing the unsteady room back to a dull grey.

“Damn, kid, you got _fucked_ up,” Vic—the mercenary who’d brought him here in the _first_ place—said with an easy grin. Sean stepped from behind her and gave Jason a cursory once-over as well, ignoring the flabbergasted expression on Jason's face.

“Well, damn. I guess we’re a little too late.” 

“No,” Vic disagreed, “he’s still alive, isn't he? I’d say that’s a win. Nobody specified he had to be intact.”

“What are you doing here?” Jason said dumbly, hardly more than a whisper. His voice barely worked anymore, grating in his torn throat. 

Sean shrugged. “We got a better offer.” 

“You...got a better offer,” Jason stated flatly, struggling to catch up.

“Whoo, boy,” Vic said cheerfully, pulling a key from her pocket, “Your daddy is a scary man. I really thought he was going to kill us!”

Sean grunted. “Knew we shouldn't have made that damn video. We were caught before we could get past state lines.”

“I was wearing _goggles_ , how the fuck was I supposed to know we’d get caught?”

“You forgot to cover up your tattoo, dumbass.” 

“You were there too! You didn’t notice either, so shut the hell up.” 

Jason watched in disbelief as the two bickered like an old married couple rather than the psychotic pair they were. His father? He didn’t understand...hadn’t the man paid the ransom? Vic cursed as she fumbled through the keys, the same ones Marvin had been using. Jason wondered how she’d gotten ahold of them.

“The ransom…?” he said, confused. 

“The payment was stopped. Doctor Crazy thinks she has her blood money, but your good old dad is apparently cleverer than her,” Sean scowled as Vic continued to curse. “He found our dumb asses and offered us thrice what the doc was paying. Thought he was going to kill us for sure…” 

“He sent you? But, the police—” would have made more sense, but Jason didn’t get to finish as Vic laughed. 

“The police? Oh, that’sgood. Matthew Cruz doesn’t deal with the _police._ Why do you think you were marked? _”_

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Vic made a noise of triumph as she finally found the right key and the door swung open with a creak. “Does it matter right now? Let’s just get out of here so we can get paid and you can go home, m’kay?” She strode in and grabbed for his hand but Jason was _done._ Not another _fucking_ person was going to touch him like they owned him.

Before her foul skin could make contact with his he lashed out with every bit of the rage that had consumed him earlier, slamming his foot into her sternum hard enough that he hoped he shattered every bone in her chest. He was still weak though, and too feverish to do more than flail. Still, it was enough to send her reeling into the opposite wall, exhaling sharply as the air was blasted from her lungs. 

“Oh, ugh,” she wheezed, sliding down the wall with a half-amused grimace. “Okay, it looks like you’re finally learning. Good one, kid.” 

Jason snarled. “Stay the fuck away from me.” He was done being scared and his self-preservation had flown right out the window. He waved it cheerily goodbye as it fluttered away, leaving nothing but the desire for retribution behind.

Sean seemed hardly concerned or surprised that his partner had just been thrown across the room, eyeing her with vague disgust. Ignoring his wheezing counterpart, he said to Jason frankly, “Look, do you want to get out of here or not?”

Jason glanced toward the open door, straining to hear another sound from the boy, but heard nothing, which worried him as much as had him hoping the boy wasn’t in any pain or worse. His sense of urgency had not diminished with the arrival of Vic and Sean. He didn’t want to deal with these two, but like so often lately, he didn’t have a choice. He’d been handed a way out on a silver platter and he wasn’t about to let it slip. 

He begrudgingly held still as Sean grabbed the keys himself and unlocked Jason’s handcuff, the younger man leaning as far away from the violator to his personal space as he possibly could. Whether it was out of respect for Jason’s wishes—unlikely—or wary that he may lash out again, Sean did not touch Jason at all, movements clinical and careful. The metal cuff fell to the dingy sheets, leaving smears of red against white and Jason snatched his arm back as soon as he was able, breathing easier as Sean stepped away. 

“I’m going to guess you can walk,” Sean said, glancing pointedly at Vic, who was just getting to her feet and keeping a careful distance from Jason. “We need to move.” 

Jason nodded reluctantly, getting to his feet more calmly this time. He swayed, unbalanced as his left side felt simultaneously too light and too heavy all at once. His head rushed but he ignored it in favor of gathering his bearings. He needed to focus. 

Sean and Vic left the cell, the former gesturing for him to follow. 

One problem. They were going the wrong way. 

“No,” Jason said resolutely as he stepped out of the cell. The two turned back to him, Vic’s wide face scrunching in disbelief. 

“No? What the fuck do you _mean,_ no? You want to stay here?” 

“I mean I’m not leaving. Not without the child,” Jason said firmly. He would not budge on this. Either they came with him to protect their precious contract or they left and didn’t get paid. Either way, he didn’t care. He wasn’t leaving without the boy. 

Sean went abruptly silent, lips pressed into a thin line. Jason stared him down, but the man wasn’t looking at Jason. He glared beyond him down the hall with eyes cold as ice. “You’ve got to be shitting me. How old?” he barked.

Jason wasn’t sure why he cared. “Eight, maybe? It doesn’t matter, I’m not leaving him.” But it did seem to mean something to the older man, who bared his teeth. 

Vic let out a colorful string of curses before pulling her gun. “Who _cares?_ Look, either you come quietly, or we _make_ you,” she threatened, but Jason was hardly moved. He knew that if they injured him they could be certain his father wouldn’t give them a damn thing. Jason may not know what all Matthew was involved in, realizing now that he knew far less about his father than he thought, but he did know that the man never rewarded those who went against him. It wasn’t his way. 

“Cool it, Vic. I don’t think he’s going to change his mind.” 

After a few seconds of studying her partner, Vic dropped her gun and stomped her foot on the ground in petulance. At the end of his frayed patience, Jason disdainfully turned his back on the childish fit and soon enough heard their footsteps fall into place behind him, Vic much more reluctant than her partner who fell silently to Jason’s left. Jason didn’t pay them any attention, thoughts turned ahead. This time, he wouldn’t let Morose get a shot in. This time, he would _drop her_ and she _wouldn’t get up._

Jason’s spine tightened against his instincts the closer they got to the operating room where everything had gone so horribly wrong. It went against every fiber of his being to return there but he forced his body to obey him. He couldn't falter now. He could hear the child’s soft cries clearly now, the door only meters away, and it had his steps quickening and his grimace of anger pulling deeper. 

“Shit, wait, you’re going to get yourself killed—”

Jason kicked the door open and it slammed off the wall with a satisfying _crack_ as he strode inside, livid. Morose startled at the loud sound, spinning around to face him. The child was strapped to the same table Jason had been, eyes wild with terror and trembling visibly all over. He looked so pale, so thin, but unharmed as far as Jason could tell. It seemed like she hadn’t actually been physically hurting him yet, a notepad scrawled with text clattering on the floor instead of the myriad of knives scattered about the room—some that were still stained with Jason’s blood. 

That didn’t mean Jason was any less _pissed_. 

“No, no, no, what are you doing?” Morose protested immediately, waving her hands in the air like a frazzled hen, heedless to the murder in his eyes. “You shouldn’t be up so soon, the swelling! _You’re going to ruin my experiment!”_

The child whimpered on the table and Jason grit his teeth. He had to get him out of here. “Get away from him,” he growled, taking a threatening step forward. 

Faster than a viper, Morose snatched the taser from the tray beside her and pointed it at the new threat. But Jason wouldn’t let her take him down, not this time. He lunged recklessly with a broken shout and Morose shrieked as she pulled the trigger. 

It never had time to reach him. So focused on the enemy in front of him, Jason forgot about the ones at his back—until a shoulder hammered painfully into his side, Vic grunting loudly as she took the hit for him and went down. Jason didn’t have time to be shocked that the woman who clearly hated him protected him at the expense of herself, because Sean yanked Jason out of the way and lifted his gun. 

Jason nearly leaped out of his skin as the older man fired three times, the bangs deafening in the confined space. But Morose was quicker than any of them, diving behind a shelf and sprinting for the door on the other side. It opened with a slam and she was gone, her heels abandoned where she’d stood. 

The room fell silent save for Vic’s ragged gasps and the continuous frightened sobs of the young boy strapped to the table between them. 

“Damn,” Sean finally muttered when it was apparent Morose wasn’t about to come back, sidling cautiously to the open door. He peered out, but either he couldn’t see where Morose had gone or she was too far away to hit. He closed the door and moved the heavy metal shelves to block the way.

Room secured, Jason scrambled to the child’s side, shivering through a cold wash of dismay at the look the boy gave him. A mismatched set of terrified eyes rolled over to stare at Jason as the boy’s slim chest rose and fell laboriously, distressingly trying to get as far from Jason as he could. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, _oh God,”_ Jason mumbled mindlessly as he fumbled with the restraints with his one hand. Luckily, the boy didn’t seem harmed aside from the horrific scars covering his body, pink and ragged against his bluish skin. “I’m going to get you out of here, I promise—” if he could just _make his hand work._

“For the love of—move!” Vic said, shoving Jason out of the way. She shook out the arm that had been shocked sharply and went to work on the restraints. They popped open one after the other, revealing more mottled skin beneath. The boy had clearly been strapped to this damn table too many times. As he was released the boy immediately curled into himself, watching them warily. “If you want to escape, get up,” Vic snapped at the kid, who cowered. To Jason, she said, “That other fucker is around here somewhere and he’s more dangerous than the doc by far. We need to get out of here, _now.”_

She strode towards the direction they’d come, looking through the door it with a savage glare. Sean nodded to Jason as he passed. “Make it quick,” he said quietly, giving the child a brief glance before joining his partner. 

Taking a slow, steadying breath, Jason took her place beside the table. The kid was a bundle of raw nerves in its center, looking so small and lost. Jason crouched, trying to look as nonthreatening as possible. 

“Hey,” he whispered, attempting to catch the child’s eye. “Hey, we’re going to get you out of here. Can you stand?” 

He didn’t respond and Jason’s brows drew together in concern. Sean made an impatient gesture and Jason knew he was running out of time. 

He tried again, gentling his voice even more until it was no more than a soothing whisper. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry this happened to you. I wanted to get you out of here the moment I saw you but…” he choked. “I can’t carry you. I need you to get up and walk. Do you want to see the sky?” Jason so, so wanted to see the sky. 

The child finally looked up at him and he could see the same longing reflected in his eyes, no matter how unnatural one of them may be. “Tell me your name.”

“N-” the boy said slowly, haltingly. “Name?”

“Yeah, your name. What are you called?” Jason enunciated carefully. 

The child merely stared, the moment held between them interminably. Jason couldn’t read the expression on his too-thin face and wondered if the boy truly didn’t understand him. But it wasn’t without awareness that he looked into Jason’s face; the older man could practically see the gears turning behind the enigmatic gaze. “Boy,” the boy said eventually, hesitantly. 

“That’s not…” 

The boy seemed distressed the longer Jason was silent, breaths coming quickly again. With dawning horror, Jason thought of something that had his heart sinking right down to his toes. Was it that the boy couldn’t tell him his name because he didn’t have one? 

“Sometime today,” Vic snapped, shattering the moment between them. 

“Okay, okay,” Jason said quickly past the lump in his throat. “It’s alright. Listen, let’s get out of here together, okay? If we can get away, that woman won’t be able to hurt us anymore.” 

“Ma’am,” the boy mumbled through quivering lips, and Jason dreaded that he may need to carry him after all. Yet a moment later the boy nodded. He seemed to steel himself, lifting up on shaking arms to push off the table. Despite that his thin limbs looked like they would hardly be able to support his weight, he landed on his feet and stayed there. It was more than Jason could have hoped for. 

“Alright, great, now let’s get the fuck out of here!” 

Jason stood with a determined nod but flinched when small, cold fingers slipped between his. 

_“Ts—”_

Crippling, crimson fear blindsided Jason and he froze with the shock of it, focus scattering and narrowing into a single, agonizing point.

_Wha—_

His eyes jerked down to find the boy clinging to him with as strong a grip as his little hands could manage, completely unaware of the unexpected reaction he inspired in Jason as he watched their surroundings warily. 

It took everything Jason had not to throw the boy across the room.

 _Shit, shit, shit, not now, not now!_ he thought frantically, overwhelmed by his body's overreaction to the simple touch, as if the jagged teeth of a predator grazed his skin rather than the soft silk of a child's fingers. 

Jason fought down a surge of panic. _The boy is harmless, he’s not trying to hurt me._ This child wasn’t an enemy, not like Morose or Vic or Marvin and wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ hurt him. But no amount of rationalizing could force his heart to slow. It never had. He struggled to breathe, struggled to move at all, employing the calming methods he’d been using since childhood to deal with his irrational reflex. But they _weren’t working_ for him now, it was far too strong, as if all the progress he’d made in his life was gone in an instant—as if his broken mind was making up for lost time with an attack so much more severe than anything he’d ever experienced. 

Jason bit into his lip until he tasted blood, frustration burning through the paralysis. Why was this happening _now?_ There was no _time_ for this, now was _not the time to break down._ Not here, in this insanely dangerous situation with these mercenaries breathing down his neck and a psychopath out for blood. And _not_ in front of this child who didn’t deserve to be subjected to Jason’s callous rejection of something so innocent as a request for comfort, something _any_ human being should be able to offer another. _Stop it. For_ ** _fuck’s_ **_sake, get a grip!_ The child had to be infinitely more afraid than Jason, had an actual _reason_ to be, and Jason _would not push him away_. 

Mere seconds after a single, innocent touch had nearly brought him to his knees, Jason forced barbed air into his lungs and took a few hesitant steps, gaining momentum when he didn’t crash to the floor. He repressed his turmoil brutally until all he could sense was the copper coating his tongue and all he could see was the path ahead. He _had_ to, because no one was around to bring Jason out of it, to compensate for his weakness, and now the child depended on Jason's strength for his survival.

Thankfully, his lapse went unnoticed by both the boy and the wolves leading the way. The boy’s fingers tightened around Jason’s as he followed, the skin between them slick with cold sweat. 

It was time to go. 

* * *

  
  


Jason choked on relief as they opened the final door to freedom, a rush of freezing air scraping over his skin and banishing the numbness. He had no energy left, his body one big ache and adrenaline petered out to nothing after days of constant demand. The only thing keeping him steady now was the child who clung doggedly to his arm, Jason using him as a reason to keep going—a catalyst and a temper for his distress. 

The little blond cringed at every sound and shook continuously. Jason checked on him every few seconds, making sure he was alright. Well, as alright as he could be, Jason supposed. He trusted that Vic and Sean would keep them safe from any surprise attacks by Marvin and Doctor Morose or whoever the hell else was down here, if not because they cared but because they wouldn’t get paid otherwise. 

Or they were afraid of Jason’s dad. Jason was still trying to wrap his head around that one. 

Finally, they’d found the exit in the nightmarish labyrinth of identical corridors and Jason took a deep breath of the chill winter air. He blinked into the light of day, eyes blurring from lack of sunlight for who knows how long in the harsh institutional fluorescents. It was a painful but cleansing sting, as if the sun burned away the filth the foul place left on his skin. Though no amount of sunlight would ever be able to erase the scars, it fought away the demons long enough for him to breathe freely for the first time since he was certain he wouldn't get out of this alive. 

They were in a compound of some sort, the concrete ground covered in a foot of snow and gates everywhere, closing them in. Mountains wreathed in ice glimmered in the distance through the pale, arid air. It seemed that Jason’s hunch was right; the compound appeared to be some sort of old prison, long abandoned. Yellow tape and ‘keep out’ signs littered the old rusted fences in every direction, the barbed wire ineffectual where the links corroded through. How long had Morose operated here? She could have been here for years and continued her experiments with impunity for all that this place was probably patrolled.

A pained whimper from below had Jason stalling his thoughts, a thrill of discomfort tangling in his gut. The boy buried his head in Jason’s side, his little face scrunched up in agony. Ignoring his own weakness, Jason fell to one knee so he could better look into the boy’s face. He wouldn’t let go of Jason’s hand, though, so Jason couldn’t check him for injury. Shit, had he missed something? “¿Qué pasa, niño? Shhh, estoy aquí, tell me what’s wrong,” Jason said gently, tongue thick in his mouth and voice strained. He struggled to keep his eyes open, exhaustion and fever pulling at his limbs. The words felt so _heavy_ and he had a hard time forcing out his English so the child would understand. 

Somewhere to the side came a grunt of disgust, and a quiet ‘stay here’ from Sean before the man disappeared. Vic stood her ground, scanning the area acutely. Jason ignored them, watching patiently as the boy slowly opened his eyes before snapping them shut again. This went on for a few moments before it finally clicked. How long had he been in the dark? Judging by his paper pale skin, it could have been years _._ Maybe even his whole life. 

Jason sighed quietly to himself, heartbroken all over again. Reluctantly, he turned towards his unsolicited escort. “Vic,” he rasped. 

“Quiet, dollface, those fuckers are still around here somewhere. Sean went to grab the car.” 

“Yeah, great. Listen, do you have any sunglasses?” With the way the sun was gleaming in the perfectly clear sky and reflecting off of the snow, it had to be agony for the child.

“This isn’t exactly the time to be a wuss. Now shut up.” 

“Will you just—ugh. The kid. He needs sunglasses to see.” 

That got Vic’s attention. She glared over her shoulder, scanning the boy with obvious reluctance. Jason lowered his brows, scowling, and Vic scoffed. “Fine. Here, he can wear these.” She pulled a pair of sunglasses from her jacket and tossed them. 

Jason, who had one hand held captive by the child and the other wrapped to his chest, instinctively tried to catch it with his bound limb. 

_“Ach!”_

Pain exploded behind his eyes as Jason’s body _convulsed_ and for a split second he thought he’d been tased again, sharp copper coating the back of his tongue like ozone. But no, it was coming from _him_ , his wounded shoulder spasming in its bonds and sending lightning through every nerve of his body. Jason gasped, hunching over as the shocks drove him to the ground, grinding his forehead into the burning cold concrete. Spittle slipped past Jason’s slack lips as his vision whited out for several seconds, the snow in front of his eyes spotting with red and black as he lost the ability to breathe.

Then it was gone. The pain, movement, sensation disappeared until there was nothing left. Jason consumed greedy gulps of frigid air as his body was released, forcing himself back into a sitting position.

Vic barely spared him a glance as Jason struggled to keep his sanity from shaking apart. “Whoops, _that_ looked nasty. Can you get the boy to shut up, we’ve got to stay quiet.”

Jason glared at her with venom, but the woman had already turned away to watch for danger. Hesitantly, Jason reached for his wounded shoulder but couldn’t quite bring himself to touch the bandages and the foreign lump beneath. What was _that?_ Unsettled, he forced the issue aside for when he had time to deal with it.

When Jason finally brought himself to seek the child, he was dismayed to find the boy huddled against the corner of the doorway, as far from Jason as he could get without crawling through the concrete. Jason could practically smell the fear leaking from him and regretted his sudden movement, no matter how involuntary it had been.

“Shhh, está bien, estás a salvo,” Jason whispered nonsensically like his mother would when he’d been upset as a kid. Scooting closer, he picked up the sunglasses from the ground and held them out in offering. “I didn't mean to scare you, I promise. Please be quiet, or they might find us,” he whispered. 

Slowly, the boy’s sniffles quieted and he peeked out from behind his folded arms. He squinted painfully at the glasses without taking them then fearfully at Jason’s face. Jason frowned. Did he not understand?

“Like this,” he said, putting them on himself and sighing as his headache eased ever so slightly. “It'll help with the brightness.” He took them off and held them out again. 

The child, after hesitating for several long seconds, reached out and took them. He cautiously glanced at Jason again as if waiting for permission and Jason nodded in encouragement. The boy pulled the arms apart and slipped the glasses slowly over his eyes. 

“There, better?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the child responded immediately and clearly, and Jason jumped at the sound of his voice. 

Ma’am? Did he mean...Morose? “I’m not a ma’am. My name is Jason,” Jason corrected gently. The boy’s brows drew together and he looked almost...chagrined.

“I-I know that,” he said, pinching his lips together. “Jason.” 

The sound of a car engine interrupted them and the boy cringed, huddling against the wall and retreating right back into his shell. Jason looked up to watch as the black van that had been his vehicle to this nightmare in the first place rolled up at a reckless pace, tearing through the snow on gleaming traction chains. 

“Finally,” Vic complained, stepping forward as it came to a stop. She wrenched the back door open and gestured for Jason and his charge to get inside. With a sense of relief, Jason turned back to the kid. 

“Hey, no, it’s alright. If we get into the car we can leave this place. Does that sound okay?” The boy huddled down further. 

_“Hurry up.”_ Vic snapped. Jason glared at the woman irritably, though she clearly didn’t give a flying fuck what he thought. _Not. Helping._

The reaction of the child was immediate, however, and Jason moved back as he stood abruptly and strode to the car, clearly terrified but obedient. Vic raised her brows and gestured for him to climb in. He did so without question, never taking his eyes off of her as he curled up onto the seat against the opposite door. Vic looked to Jason and he could only give her a bewildered look back.

With nothing else for it, Jason climbed in after him, Vic slamming the door closed once he was seated. He winced, really wishing she would take it easy on the loud noises. 

Jason tried to sit back but immediately regretted it as fire flared over the parts of his back he could still feel. He hissed but forced himself to sit upright, clicking on his seatbelt with fumbling fingers. 

“All cozy?” Sean asked sardonically, and Jason gave him the middle finger. “Good. Let’s get the hell out of here.” 

The man slammed the accelerator and Jason grunted at the g-force, car propelling them towards the exit and out onto a poorly maintained road. No one stopped them and Jason felt himself relax by increments as the abandoned facility disappeared into the trees.

Once Jason’s body stopped aching enough for him to unclench his jaw, he checked on the boy who hadn’t moved from his huddle. Jason briefly thought about trying to get him into a seatbelt but dismissed it a second later. The last thing he wanted to do was restrain him. 

“Is there a town nearby?” Jason gritted out. He shivered as the engine finally warmed enough to start to heat the cabin, heated air washing over his limbs. They stung, and Jason realized that he hadn’t been warm in a long, long time. He’d forgotten what it was like to feel his fingers. 

Well. Half of them.

“Even if there is, we’re not stopping,” Sean replied, matter of fact. 

“What? But we need a hospital.” The car went over a particularly nasty pothole and the pain flared, scattering Jason’s thoughts. 

Vic scoffed. “Are you nuts? We aren’t exactly law-abiding citizens, kid. We just left a crime scene, for God’s sake.” 

“Then just leave us,” Jason insisted, alarm slithering through him mutely. Where were they taking them if not to a hospital? He tried valiantly to stay awake, to keep her snide face in focus. The last thing he wanted was to wake once again in an unfamiliar place. 

His chest seized as frigid fingers found their way to his arm again, the child crawling over and wrapping himself around the limb, pressing as close to Jason as he could get. Jason had to take several moments to breathe, but this time it was a little easier for him to brush off the sharp tang of his aversion, _stop, it’s fine, the boy’s just cold and scared, don’t freak out, don’t freak out._ He hoped it was because he was getting a handle on himself and not that he was just too exhausted to react badly anymore. “This little guy needs help. Hell, _I_ need help. That crazy woman flayed me and attached some sort of...thing to my shoulder. I don't know how I’m still alive.” 

“She wouldn’t have let you die,” Vic dismissed. “At least,” she corrected herself a second later, “not until she’d verified the results of her experiments. Looks like we got to you before that though, lucky you.” 

“Are you not listening to me?” Jason seethed. “We need to get to a hospital!” 

“No, we need to hand you over to your father,” she snapped back. “We need to get our _money,_ dammit! And I’m not willing to risk getting arrested! So just sit there and shut up. Don’t make me drug you again, brat, so help me!”

The only thing holding Jason back from strangling her was the child on his arm. “You wouldn’t get close. Not this time,” he promised. Vic’s eyes flashed and she turned in her seat, her gun out faster than Jason could react. Instead of pointing it at Jason, though, she pointed it at the child. Luckily, the boy either didn’t know what it was or was used to such threats. Jason hoped it was the former. 

Jason snarled, livid. He crouched over the kid as well as he was able, but he was encumbered by the seat belt he’d put on automatically earlier. The boy huddled into him more, eyes wide behind his glasses. 

“I may not be able to hurt you, but no one said anything about the kid,” she said viciously. 

_“For fuck’s sake!”_ Sean slammed the breaks on the car and all three of them cried out as they spun out on the road. Luckily they didn’t flip, but it seemed a small blessing when they slammed into one of the trees lining the asphalt with a sickening crunch. The car continued to spin long after it had come to a stop for poor Jason, but he kept his protective hunch, trying his damndest to keep the much smaller boy from flying across the car. 

Vic wasn’t so lucky. Unbuckled, she cried out as she was slammed into the dash, then the door when the car came to a violent stop. The second the car was stable, Sean snatched the gun from her hand and threw it out his window.

 _“Hey!”_ Vic shrieked, but Sean wasn’t having it. 

“Will you quit measuring dicks for _three seconds!”_ Sean snarled, pointing a threatening finger into Vic’s face, who backed off immediately. “If you threaten the kid or his kid _one more time,_ I don’t _care_ how long we’ve worked together, I will leave your sorry ass in the snow!” 

“Alright, cripes! I was just bluffing!” 

“I don't care. Sit there and be quiet, for fuck’s sake. I’m about done with your shit this contract. And you,” he turned to Jason, who watched them both warily. “We’re not stopping at a goddamn hospital.” 

Jason eased up when he realized they weren’t under attack anymore. Beside him, the boy reacted likewise, relaxing his grip and looking up at Jason cautiously. “Why not?” Jason insisted stubbornly. He swore if Sean said something about money again he was going to find a way to get away from these creeps, wilderness and injuries be damned.

Sean sighed and ran a gloved hand over his tired face. He looked around, and apparently judging the damage to Vic’s door superficial, guided the car back onto the road. Sean sounded much more subdued when he finally answered. 

“Several reasons. For one, we just left a crime scene, as Vic so astutely pointed out.” Vic grumbled but didn’t try to speak again. “If my experience is anything to go by, the cops aren’t going to ask questions before arresting all of our asses on the spot. That includes you.” 

Jason frowned, not sure he followed that logic. What had _he_ done, other than getting kidnapped? He could see Sean roll his eyes in the rearview. 

“Guilt by association, kid, and thanks to this bitch, we now have a warrant out for our arrest. Besides, your dear old dad didn’t file a missing person’s report, so you’re an accessory if nothing else. Reason two: what exactly do you think is going to happen to Doctor Crazy junior over there if we do go to a hospital, hm?” Jason’s eyes widened. The boy was Morose’s _son?_ “Morose doesn’t have a criminal record and we didn’t manage to kill her. She could very well come out and try to get him back, opening a whole can of worms we don’t need.” 

“Shoulda’ just left him,” Vic mumbled, but shut up when Sean smacked her on the arm hard enough to leave a nasty bruise. 

“If by some miracle that doesn’t happen—which it will if she’s smart about it—it would mean that he wouldn’t have a guardian at all. You can pretty much guarantee that the next entity to get ahold of the boy would be the _state,_ and let me tell you, the system is not kind to disabled kids. Not only that, he’s got unregistered tech embedded in his head. At best, he’ll be put into foster care to people who have no idea how to deal with his prosthetic. At worst, it’ll be taken from him or he’ll become some sort of lab rat to some corporate big heads trying to replicate it. Either way, you never see the boy again.” 

The longer Sean talked, the paler Jason became. He didn’t know how much of this the boy understood as he listened, his face enigmatic beneath his shades, but the way Jason felt about all of this was written on his sleeve, plain as day. Already his throat burned at the thought that he may never see the child again, that he wouldn’t know his fate. He couldn’t let that witch get ahold of him, he _wouldn’t_. And if what Sean said was true, she had a very real chance of achieving that if she covered her tracks well enough. Or hell, had deep enough pockets to bribe the right people. The state was another no go. Jason may not have gone through the system himself, but he’d heard enough horror stories and read enough news to know that Sean’s warnings may very well be plausible. 

But what option did that leave? The boy—and _Jason—_ needed help.

The answer was obvious. Didn’t mean Jason liked it. 

“How far are we from my father?” Jason relented darkly, and he could see the approving lift of Sean’s lips from the back seat. 

“A couple of hours. Sit tight, kid, we’ll get there soon enough.” 

Good. Because Jason honestly didn’t know how much more of this he could take before he passed out again. 

He settled back, trying to make himself as comfortable as possible. He _hurt_ and he just wanted to get this horrible experience over with _._

His father...Jason was starting to realize he knew nothing about him. What was Matthew involved in that the law couldn’t get involved, that his son had been chosen for ransom? Matthew hadn’t exactly been a stellar father over the years but Jason never imagined he was a criminal. 

He tried to think back to his childhood for the red flags that must have been there, but the truth was, his father had kept him pretty sheltered. Jason remembered times when he’d been ordered to leave the room so the ‘adults could talk’, but most adults did that around their kids. 

Matthew had never physically abused Jason or his mother but he hadn’t exactly been affectionate either, as restrictive a husband as he was a father. Overprotective— _condescending—_ he treated Jason’s mother, Anita, as he would a child, not allowing her outside of the house on her own unless he knew who she was with and where she was going, telling her outright ‘no’ if he disapproved. Which, considering he disapproved of everything, was fairly often. Unable to speak out and as firmly under his thumb as Jason, it was only a matter of time before Anita moved away from home the year Jason turned fourteen. She left for Mexico and the only reason she hadn’t been able to take Jason with her was the custody laws that prevented Jason from leaving the U.S. Jason found this out a couple of years later and ran from home himself the second he’d become legal. Even then, his freedom was only suffered on the caveat that he got the degree Matthew chose. He got the feeling that Matthew had only allowed the rebellion because he thought Jason would eventually come crawling back to the fold when he realized how hard it was to live without the money he was accustomed to. Jason hadn’t caved though, the time he spent in college and thereafter easily the best years of his life despite the hardships and heartaches.

Again, shitty father, but not criminal. 

Now Jason was examining every ‘job’ his father had given him. Matthew had used him for a few ‘errands’ in the South; delivering contracts—sealed, so Jason couldn’t read them even if he’d been remotely interested—and messages for various people. Matthew had always told him what to say, and Jason had believed that it was for one or other of his various businesses, for getting funding or new clients or whatever. Now that he thought about it, the people he dealt with always seemed a little on edge around Jason, but he’d just figured that all business types were that way when dealing with so much money on the line. 

Now he had to wonder if they’d feared him.

Jason just didn’t know. He’d never really thought about it too hard, doing those few things for his father so that the man would leave him alone for a while. After all, he held no illusions that Matthew couldn’t drag him home with a snap of his manicured fingers, much as Jason loathed to admit it. 

Jason glanced at his two...guards? Escorts? Did this count as a rescue or another kidnapping? He thought about asking them, but he didn’t think he wanted to know. Frankly, he was too tired to care right now. 

What he did know at the moment, and most importantly, was that his father always had a family doctor on staff, the best money could buy. Loathe as Jason was to let anyone touch him, he needed help, and soon. Jason had always abhorred it when people touched him, ever since he was a kid, and the condition was so aggravated at this point he was surprised the child’s bare skin on his didn’t set him aflame. The worst part, what made it so _frustrating,_ was that he thought he’d finally gotten over it, to the point that he could handle the touch of those he trusted most and could even tolerate the touch of a stranger for short periods of time. But now...Jason shook his head. It was too soon to be fatalistic about this. He was tired, stressed and in pain. Maybe….maybe this relapse was temporary. 

Maybe all of this was temporary. 

Jason just needed to get to someone who could repair the damage that crazy woman had caused and get this _thing_ out of his shoulder before his body rejected it or something. Judging by the fever, it probably already had. Even though he couldn’t feel the device, he knew it was there and it was doing just as much damage to his psyche as it was to his body. Maybe once it was removed, he could heal and everything could go back to normal.

Jason clenched his eyes shut, forcing himself to think of something else before his doubts could drown him again. 

A small sound at his side provided a perfect distraction. Jason's eyes softened as he took in the boy’s tiny frame. He had no way of knowing what had been done to the kid, both visible—on his face and neck and chest—and what was hidden behind those enigmatic eyes. All he knew was that the damage to his face was extensive, as if a good portion of it had been peeled away along with the removal of his eye. Even if it had scarred and healed, Jason got the feeling that there would be complications down the line, if he wasn't facing them already. 

As for the damage that went deeper than the skin, he wasn’t certain if the boy was educated enough to do things like hold a conversation or understand what was going on around him. Emotionally...only time would tell. Jason wasn’t equipped to deal with that sort of thing, was, in fact, the last person who one would go to for emotional support when he could hardly get his own shit together. All Jason could do for now was give whatever comfort he could, limited as it was.

“Hey,” Jason whispered. The boy didn’t look up. Jason frowned before trying again. “Hey, um, little boy?” Again, silence, and after a moment, Jason realized that he was completely relaxed, the tremors stopping for the first time since Jason first laid eyes on him. 

Asleep. 

With a gusty sigh, Jason decided to leave off for now. The boy had been through so much, he probably needed all the rest he could get. Pulling his arm carefully from the child’s grip, Jason guided him down onto his lap and hesitantly placed an arm over his bare back. Grinding his teeth his acute discomfort, Jason rubbed the boy’s pale shoulder, trying to warm his skin. 

So thin...the first thing Jason was going to do once they’d been seen to by a doctor was get the poor thing some food and _clothes_. 

“I don’t suppose either of you has a blanket,” he said doubtfully. A scoff from Vic was his only answer. With a silent sigh, Jason settled himself in for the long haul. The heater would have to be enough for now.

Despite Jason’s exhaustion, he didn’t sleep a wink over the next several hours. That didn’t mean he was exactly lucid, however. Out of everything—fever, pain, his body struggling to heal—the thing that stood out to Jason the most was _hunger._ He hadn’t eaten more than a few bites of food in days and it gnawed at him, a constant, painful craving that he was forced to endure because he could no longer rely on adrenaline or drugs to distract from it. If he had any energy left at all, he would probably be shaking with hunger, but as it was, he could barely move enough to look out the window. He considered asking the mercenaries if they had anything to eat but he got the feeling that their job didn’t extend much past ‘get Jason home alive’. Judging by the reaction he got asking for a blanket, he didn’t bother to hold onto a hope.

The boy thankfully didn’t wake or make a sound the entire trip. Jason wondered how much sleep he was used to and was glad that he felt at ease enough to get it while he could. He didn’t know how he would have handled it if the boy had been freaking out or something this whole time. Jason was bad enough with adults as it was; he had no idea what to do with a child. And Sean and Vic were definitely not going to help. Despite Sean’s intervention, he doubted that the old mercenary cared overmuch whether the kid was comfortable or not.

Or maybe they really didn’t have blankets or food. Either way, it was a long, trying ride.

They bypassed all civilization, so other than a few vaguely numbered county roads, Jason wouldn’t have been able to get his bearings if he wanted to. Just more snow, mountains and trees for the most part. It didn’t help that his phone was long gone, so even if they had passed some small town or other he wouldn’t have been able to look it up. 

He must have faded out at some point because the next thing he knew he was jolting upright when someone jostled his shoulder. Alarm skittered through him as his vision hazed from moving so quickly, momentarily blind in the headrush. 

“You alive?”

“Debatable,” Jason mumbled. He shivered, cold sweat coating his entire body. Blindly, he reached for the boy and sighed in relief to find him right where he'd left him. He blinked as his vision came back into focus on Sean’s stoic—concerned?—face hovering over him through the open door. Jason leaned away. “Uh. We there yet?” He looked out of the car window and found them inside an underground parking garage. Vic was nowhere in sight.

Sean studied him for a few more moments before nodding once. “Yes. Can you walk?”

Jason gave him a strange look. “Yeah?” Probably. He carefully moved the boy from his person without waking him and tried to lift himself upright. He promptly fell back against the seat with a hiss. Alright, make that a definite maybe. 

“Shit, kid, you’ve bled through your bandages,” Sean said with some alarm. Jason rolled his head to look at him in confusion, vision swimming. He tried to reply, but Sean beat him to it. “Nevermind, you stay here. I’ll get some help.” Jason blinked slowly, and by the time he got his eyes opened again, Sean was gone, leaving them in the semidarkness.

Jason struggled to remain calm, underground like this again, but the child sighing softly at his side held the demons at bay. They were safe. Morose couldn’t touch them anymore. Not that he had the energy to be concerned about it. He just wanted to _sleep_. 

“Hey,” he said quietly, voice little more than a rasp. The boy was still dead to the world, lying on the seat and breathing softly. Jason placed a hesitant hand on his shoulder, fingers shaking.“Hey, niño, wake up. We’re here.”

The boy woke with a jolt and blinked disorientedly. Fear flashed across his face as he clearly didn’t recognize his surroundings, but he relaxed when he caught sight of Jason. 

“How are you feeling?”

“My eyesight is back to normal,” he said clearly, and Jason startled at the sound of his voice. It was smooth, succinct and blew away Jason’s fears that he wouldn’t be able to hold a conversation. But it was...cold. Or rather, emotionless. Before Jason could do more than gape in surprise, the boy continued, eyes down. “The pain from light exposure has passed. It originated from my temple,” he placed a thin hand over the side of his head, “rather than the implant. No technical malfunction occurred.” 

He fell silent and it took Jason several seconds to stop gaping. “Uhm. I meant, are _you_ okay? You went through a lot—” he started to say, ‘the last couple days’ but that wasn't right, was it? The boy eyed him curiously before glancing away with a frown. “I mean, are you cold? Hungry? In...in any pain?”

“I don’t understand,” the boy said, frown deepening. 

Jason didn’t either if he was being honest. “Okay. Um. My name is Jason. Can you...tell me yours?” Maybe now that they were not in so much danger, the boy could answer. Perhaps earlier he had been too scared to understand. 

“Boy,” he said again, monotone, and Jason felt his headache pulse harder behind his eyes.

“That’s what you _are,”_ he said slowly, tongue heavy and thoughts sluggish. He was half-convinced he was speaking a different language for all it seemed they understood each other. The boy looked up at him cautiously, holding his gaze now. “I want to know what you’re called, th-the name you were given.” Maybe he truly hadn't been given a name. The thought made Jason’s blood run cold.

“I don’t understand,” the boy said again, and though it was very subtle, Jason could detect the small tremor starting in his voice. 

Shaking his head, Jason left it for another time. Even that small movement made his head throb. “Nevermind, then. How old are you?” He sounded more intelligent than Jason would have expected from someone who looked so very young. 

“Ten,” the boy replied, sounding sure this time.

 _“Ten?_ But…” He looked so _small,_ inches shorter than a boy his age should be. To his dismay, the boy took his astonishment as disapproval and hunched, eyes down. Submissive. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“No,” Jason sighed. “S'fine. I didn’t mean...”

Shouting echoed through the garage and Jason rolled his head painfully to the side, recognizing the voice. 

“What do you mean he can’t walk, I swear to _fuck_ , Silo, if he has so much as has a scratch on him!” Matthew Cruz shouted as he burst through the door, Sean following behind him, clearly disgruntled. Matthew looked livid, his short black hair in disarray and his wide jaw clenched tightly enough to see veins bulging on his forehead. It was the most disheveled Jason had ever seen him, the usually unshakeable man beside himself. Despite their differences, Jason was actually relieved to finally see a familiar face, even if it was his asshole of a father. 

“Save your threats, Cruz, I got him to you, didn’t I? Besides, Morose did the damage to him, not us.” 

Matthew rounded on the other man. Large and imposing, he made his point clearly. “You had better be telling me the truth, or you _will_ regret it.” Without giving Sean a chance to reply, Matthew gestured to the door, several people coming through with first aid kits and a stretcher. Jason shuddered at the thought of all these people crowding him. Matthew reached him before them, however, and blanched when he caught sight of his son.

“Jason, thank God.” He leaned through the open door, scanning Jason’s form from top to bottom. 

Jason knew he looked a mess. He hadn’t bathed in the interim he’d been held, his body shook with fever, his bandages were a mess of fresh and dried blood. And he _still_ didn't have any clothes on other than his stained jeans. Which he’d like to fix. _Soon_.

“What the hell did she _do_ to you?” Matthew demanded, though he didn’t wait for an answer. Gesturing sharply, he ordered the medics to get Jason out of the car. 

“Wait, dad—” Jason rasped, but it was too late. 

The boy cried out as the door opened abruptly, hidden as he’d been until that moment. He pressed his face into Jason’s side tightly, and this time Jason didn’t hesitate to wrap his free arm around his shaking shoulders, far beyond the point of discomfort. The woman who’d opened the door immediately backed off in surprise. 

Jason recognized her as his childhood doctor, who’d taken care of him as long as he could remember. Her wizened face was achingly familiar and suddenly Jason was terribly grateful he had come here instead of a hospital, to someone he actually trusted, eyes filling with relieved tears. He relaxed. This would make what comes next so much easier. 

“Who’s the kid?” Matthew demanded, eyes narrowed, and Jason shrugged his unwrapped shoulder. 

“I don’t know. He was at the same prison that I was.” He glanced at Sean, who was watching silently, deciding to keep the rest to himself. 

Matthew was silent for several seconds, glancing between the two of them before he sighed. “Whatever, doesn’t matter. Let’s get you out of here and looked over.”

“Okay, just gimme a second.” To the boy, Jason whispered, “Hey, chiquito, it’s okay. They’re here to help us.” When the boy only huddled closer, Jason tried again. “Don’t worry, they won’t do anything bad, I promise. They just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Ma’am,” the boy whimpered, and it struck a chord in Jason. Oh. Of course. 

“Alice,” Jason said softly, so as not to startle him further. Alice looked at him questioningly but he held up his hand to stall her. “Her name is Doctor Alice. She’s not like Morose. She’s helped me a lot over the years.” Alice looked at the boy assessingly.

“That’s right,” Alice said in the same low tone, her matronly voice so familiar that it eased Jason like nothing else could, the knots inside of him loosening a little bit more. He really _was_ safe now. He gave Alice a watery smile and she nodded slightly to him, though her mauve eyes were tight with concern. “I’m here to make sure you aren’t hurt. Can you please come out so we can see you?”

The boy’s response was again, immediate. He let go of Jason and stepped out of the car, shivering in place and not daring to look up from the ground. At attention. Waiting. 

Alice’s eyes widened before the wrinkles around them deepened with sorrow. “Oh my….” she gasped, aghast when she caught sight of the scars and the prosthetic. Surprised murmurs went through the few assistants she’d brought with her, all three men several paces back to give them space. She looked to Jason but he could only look back sadly. Steeling herself, she crouched down in front of the boy, determined yet gentle, and spoke slowly and clearly. “Okay, little one, we’re going to take you inside and make sure you aren’t hurt, and then we are going to get you some food. Does that sound okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said without inflection. Despite his words, he looked on the edge of panic, giving Jason half aborted glances. Alice looked to Jason helplessly, but Jason didn’t have any answers to give. 

“Don’t worry, chiquito, I’ll be there the whole time,” Jason reassured, and the boy relaxed marginally. Jason made to get up, but Alice stopped him immediately. 

“Oh, no you don’t, Jason, you look a fright. Boys, can you help us?”

The medics, who had been standing silently to the side, snapped to attention and approached. The stretcher was placed on the floor and Jason eyed it with trepidation, spine tensing as they drew near. Alice, long used to Jason’s particular case, gave him a stern stare. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what condition you’re in and I don’t want you walking. It’s just for a bit until we can get you situated, alright?” 

“Okay,” Jason breathed, too tired to argue or panic either way. Alice nodded with a small, proud smile—she’d worked with him long enough that every little step made her beam—and stepped back, allowing the professionals to do their job. 

Jason’s breath hitched as they closed in but he held still as a stoic medic assisted him out of the vehicle. They took one look at his ruined bandages and helped Jason onto his front on the stretcher. Jason hissed and shuddered as he moved, the aches in his body overwhelming and his limbs weak, but they were thankfully efficient. 

“We really should get him to a hospital, Mr. Cruz,” Alice said tightly, “The kid as well.” 

“I said no,” Matthew rumbled, brokering no argument. “Just get him inside and do what you can. Name it, and it’s yours.” Alice huffed but didn’t argue. Jason was barely paying attention, looking for the boy as his stretcher was lifted on mechanical arms, the medics getting ready to wheel him away. He found him standing precisely where he’d been left, avoiding the eyes of the man attempting to talk to him. 

“Chiquito,” Jason called, though he was losing more words by the second, world going dark around the edges. The boy looked up immediately. “Listen to them, ¿entiéndeme? Solo intentan...l-let them h-help—” The room spun. If there had been anything left in Jason’s stomach, it would have been all over the floor. The man hovering over him cursed as he pressed down on the soaked bandages covering Jason’s shoulder. Jason grunted, vision spotting. 

“Yes, ma—Jason,” the boy said tremulously. Blinded, Jason managed a small smile before promptly passing out.

* * *

“It’s not good,” Alice’s voice filtered through the fog of Jason’s mind. He couldn’t move, but her familiar cadence put him immediately at ease, allowing him to drift on the edge of consciousness. He was here. Safe. 

“What _is_ that thing?” Matthew growled. 

“I don’t know. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen and I’m not certain of its purpose. These lacerations, though, are clearly deliberate... I can’t be certain until we get a CT scan, but I think Jason’s nerves were targeted.” There was a splitting silence between the two of them. 

“What the _fuck_ does that mean?”

Unruffled by Matthew’s crassness, Alice continued. “We won’t know until Jason wakes and can confirm, but it likely means he won’t be able to move his arm at all.” Some shuffling and quiet cursing. “Really, we should get him to a hospital. I’m simply not equipped—”

“I said no, Alice, for the last time. Do you have any idea what would happen if the press got wind of this?”

“I would think your son is more important than—”

“It’s not worth the risk,” Matthew said darkly, and it seemed Alice didn’t have a response to that. 

“...Fine. Get me a neurologist, the best you can find. Doctor Nick Helberg in Detroit is the best in practice right now and I know he can be bought for the right price. I don’t want to touch any of this until we know the extent of the damage.” 

“No, I don’t want anyone else involved and some doctor is going to be too high profile to go missing.”

“Mr. Cruz, I’m not an expert.”

“I’m paying you to be one, Doctor,” Matthew’s voice lowered, became deadly. “I hired you because you are the best. Now prove it.” A long pause. “I’ll get any equipment you need. Don’t fail me.” 

Footsteps, then the door shut with a sharp report. 

A long, heavy sigh. “I know you’re awake.” 

Jason’s eyes fluttered open. It took several moments for them to adjust but when they did he found Alice sitting in a chair beside the bed on which he lay, her wizened face pinched. He was on his stomach thankfully, his head a little clearer. An IV ran from his functioning arm and he felt...cleaner at least, though he really didn’t want to think too hard on how he got that way.

“Where is he?” he rasped, before coughing lightly. He was parched. 

“Right behind you,” she answered, knowing exactly who he meant without having to ask. She indicated Jason’s other side and he tried to lift himself to look, but she stopped him. “Shh, don’t move. He’s sleeping.” When Jason eased back down, she asked, “What did you hear?” 

Jason closed his eyes again, blocking out the room. “Enough.” 

“Can you tell me—”

“I can’t move my arm. At all. It's numb,” Jason said, despondent. Even now, facing away, it was like his arm wasn’t there at all. Quietly, he told her as much of Morose’s rant as he could remember. 

“Oh, Jason,” Alice sighed sadly, and Jason fought back the tears that burned insistently. She opened her mouth to speak but Jason didn’t want to hear it. 

“Please. I don’t want to talk about it. Not yet.”

“...Okay.” She pulled a clipboard from outside of his peripherals, glancing grimly through her notes. “I patched you up as best I could and your fever is under control for now. There were several lacerations that went significantly deep that required stitches and some pretty severe contusions around the, ah, _device_ embedded in your shoulder. You’re on antibiotics and some potent painkillers. It’s frankly a miracle your infection isn’t worse than it is. However crazy this woman was, she knew what she was doing.” 

“What is it,” Jason swallowed, “what is it doing to me?”

Alice gave him an uncertain look. “You could probably tell me more about that than I could. What is it _meant_ to do? Did she tell you?”

“I…” Jason wasn’t entirely sure. “She said it was for a man who had had his nerves severed.” He shivered as he remembered Marvin, the clearly deranged man who’d brought Jason his one meal. He wondered momentarily what happened to him, but decided a second later that he really didn’t care. “I think it’s supposed to help me use my arm again.” 

“How?” Alice said, fascinated despite herself.

“That, I don’t know.”

She hummed, thoughtful. “As far as I know, there is no definitive way to reattach nerves. If, say, a finger is cut off and reattached, nerves may regrow so that the severed limb can be used again, but there is no real surgical solution that...oh, honey,” she stopped. 

Jason closed his eyes tightly, fighting back the tears that refused to stay trapped inside. He knew there was no coming back from what had been done to him. But to have it confirmed… “S-sorry. Um. So, the device?”

“You don’t have to apologize,” she said firmly. “Not for this.” Gathering herself together, Alice continued. “As I was saying, your nerves perhaps could have healed on their own, but if the intention was to make a prosthetic for someone whose nerves hadn’t healed, say, in an old injury, then the device may very well prevent such healing from happening. Its purpose may be to replace the nerve impulses. This is just speculation, however, and as I’ve told Mr. Cruz, I’m no specialist. Have you noticed any tingling sensations when you try to move your arm? _Have_ you tried to move your arm?”

“Once,” Jason said slowly. “And it was...really painful, but for a moment, I could feel it.”

“Hm. There may be hope yet, then. We’ll have to see once you’ve healed a bit more.” 

Jason nodded. “How is the boy?” he asked instead of facing his own condition.

Alice’s face fell, frowning at where he presumed the boy slept. “In better shape than you, I suppose. His wounds are much older. The rest, though...how long had he been held in the place you were taken?” 

“I think...maybe his whole life?” 

“He behaves like the victim of severe abuse and is clearly conditioned,” Alice said bluntly, and Jason nodded, unsurprised. He’d gathered as much. “He wouldn’t say much other than to answer questions about his prosthetic and its utility. Wouldn’t even tell me his name.” 

“Yeah… I don’t know if he has one.” A low curse, and Jason had to agree. “He can speak pretty well, though, so he must have had some kind of education, even if it was only so he could answer questions. Also, I’m not positive, but I think he's scared of women.” 

“That much is apparent. Like I said, ‘conditioned’.” She peered down at Jason. “Do you know if he has any family?”

“Morose is his mother. At least, that’s what Sean, the man who brought me here, said…”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Alice sighed. “I don’t know what his family situation is like, but perhaps we can try to find them...”

“No,” Jason snapped, alarmed. “We don’t know where that crazy woman is, what if she comes after him? I can’t, I _won’t_ let you take him—” he tried to lift himself up, a fresh wave of panic waking him more thoroughly than an icy splash of water, only compounded when his limp arm, unwrapped now and lying at his side, dragged over the bed without feeling, startling him. Immediately he felt sick, closing his eyes tightly as a heady wash of dysphoria took his breath away.

Alice, startled by Jason’s vehemence, backtracked quickly, trying to get him to lie back down with fluttering gestures. “I wasn’t suggesting—Jason, please, try not to move, your stitches—”

Jason froze as a small whimper broke through the drama, the child waking. Now on his knees, Jason could see him clearly on the bed next to him, his eyes fluttering open, could see the raw fear fly through them before he spotted Jason. He calmed, though he eyed the doctor warily as he pushed himself upright. 

“Hey, chiquito,” Jason said, trying his best to get his heartbeat under control again. “How are you—uh, I mean, did you eat?” He figured it was better to ask more specific questions than open-ended ones. 

“Yes, Jason,” he said softly. Jason nodded in approval, relieved, and was especially glad to see that he’d been given clothes to wear, even if they looked a bit too big. 

“That’s good.” Suddenly he became acutely aware of his own hunger, a gnawing chasm in his stomach making itself known with a vengeance. Alice, seeming to sense his needs, pulled a tray of food from behind her, bless, and Jason took it gratefully, tipping the small bowl to his lips and not even cringing at the overly salted soup that she provided. “Hm. Reminds me of home,” he said with a grimace. 

Alice gave him a dry chuckle. “We are far from Chicago, Jason. And you are much, much older than last we lived in the same house.” 

“Hey, now, you make it sound like I’m in my thirties or something,” he joked. “It hasn’t been that long. Where are we, anyway?”

“Denver, Colorado. Your father has a few businesses here.” 

Jason sobered. “What kind of businesses?” 

When Alice didn't answer right away, he gave her a long, assessing look. “Alice. Who is my dad, really? I mean, Morose seemed to think he had _billions_ of dollars to spare for ransom…”

She sighed and glanced at the boy who watched silently. “Look, this is something you’re going to have to work out with your father. I’m under contract not to talk, just like everyone else in his employ.” 

That...actually stung. He’d thought he would at least get honesty from his long-time doctor. But he also understood that she didn’t want to be put on the spot. If Matthew was as dangerous as everyone seemed to think he was...Jason didn’t want to put her in that position either. 

“Eat your food. I’m going to go tell Matthew that you’re awake. Call if you need anything.” She handed over a brand new phone, top of the line because Matthew never did anything by halves, and left the room quietly. Jason stared at the phone for several seconds, acutely missing his old piece of crap because at least he’d earned it with his own hands. He set it aside with a sigh and gave the boy his full attention. 

Jason smiled gently and instead of asking all of the heavy questions on the tip of his tongue, he offered, “I can’t keep calling you ‘boy’, or I’ll run out of variations. What would you like to be called?”

The child peered over his knees at Jason with curiosity, as if he couldn’t quite figure him out. Jason got the feeling that he wasn’t asked what his preferences were often. “I don’t…” His brows started to furrow in distress the longer the silence drew on.

“Ah, that’s okay. Actually, now that I think about it, not many people ever get to decide what they want to be called.” Jason chuckled, trying to keep it light even though he could hear the strain in his voice. He took another few sips of soup, grateful he no longer felt so nauseous. He eyed the child, though of course looking at features alone wasn’t going to help him come up with a name any faster. Maybe he should just wait. But no, he couldn’t let this child go any longer without his own identity, as if he were an object. Grim thoughts. “How about Richard? You look like a Richard.” 

The boy’s nose scrunched up.

“No? How about Daniel? We could call you Danny! Or, wow, okay, don’t make that face. Mark?”

“Jason.” The boy’s lips twitched, and Jason almost detected a smile. It lifted his spirits.

“You can’t have my name! Do you know how confusing that would get?” he cajoled. “Alright, alright, how about Damian? Han?”

He seemed to mull that last one over before slowly shaking his head. Hm, maybe Jason was getting closer? “Jason,” he said with what was definitely the beginnings of a smirk.

This time Jason coughed a laugh, becoming convinced that the boy was doing this on purpose. Was that a sense of humor he spied? “No, nope, not doing the whole _Jason, son of Jason_ thing. Careful, or I might just start calling you Jessica.” 

The boy’s eyes lit up at that one for some reason and Jason backtracked quickly. “No, please, not that one, I’ve never met a Jessica I liked.” Why had he even suggested it? There was no point in Jason’s life where he said the name ‘Jessica’ and it turned out well for him. Just his luck that the boy would like something completely inappropriate. “Okay, for real though, I’m coming up blank. Isn't there a story you like, maybe a hero you remember?”

The boy’s eyes fell. “There was…” he started haltingly, “Before,” he touched his eye, fingers hovering over the scars, “Ma’am used to tell me stories after learning. There was one called the Tale of Icarus.” 

Jason lifted his brows. So the boy _had_ had an education, of sorts. He stayed silent, waiting to see if he would continue.

“Ma’am used to tell me that Icarus died because he didn’t listen to his betters. But...I liked it.”

Jason’s mouth went dry. “Why?” 

“Because,” he seemed to be having a hard time articulating himself, jaw working. “Because even though he knew what he was doing may hurt him, he reached for the sky anyway. I could never do that.” 

Jason was silent for a long time after that. Eventually, he said, “You aren’t Icarus.” When the boy looked up, he elaborated. “You aren’t trapped in that damn place anymore, and you don’t have to listen to that woman. She didn’t give you wings, all she did was _take._ Now, you’re free. You can reach for the sky, and...and I’ll catch you if you fall, okay?”

The boy’s single blue eye filled with tears, and Jason wasn’t that far off himself. “Do you promise?” he asked weakly. He sounded so _hopeful._ Jason could hardly stand it. 

Jason didn’t really consider what he was agreeing to. He didn’t hesitate. “Yes. I promise.” 

“Forever?”

“For as long as you need me.” He meant it. You didn’t go through something like what they had together and just walk away. Jason didn’t know what would happen to this child if he was taken from his side, so he wouldn’t allow it. He didn’t care who he had to fight, he would not be moved. This boy wouldn’t be alone anymore.

“Jesse,” the boy finally said into the leaden silence. Jason blinked, surprised. The boy smiled, just a little, tremulous thing. “There was a boy in the videos who looked like me. He...laughed a lot. I liked him. So...” 

“Jesse…” Jason said slowly, wondering what ‘videos’ he meant, but deciding that his word was good enough. “Yeah. Okay. Jesse.” 

The smile the boy— _Jesse—_ gave him was genuine and full of light, and Jason knew then that he would destroy the whole world if that was what it took to keep it there. He gave an answering grin, so big it hurt his cheeks and man it had been so long since he’d smiled like this. Jesse perked up where he sat, sitting up straighter. He opened his mouth to say something else.

The door banged open and both of them startled, Jason letting out a shout and spinning around on his cot fast enough to send the tray in his lap flying. Jesse yelped and threw himself behind the bed, out of sight. 

Jason’s heart pounded in his ears and it took him several seconds to recognize that it was his father standing in the doorway, looking just as surprised as Jason. 

“Dad,” Jason croaked, settling back down. He regretted the movement now, the area on his shoulder that he could still feel throbbing in protest along with the rest of his wounds. He hoped he hadn’t just ripped his stitches out but was shaking too hard to check.

Matthew raised his brows before stepping into the room and closing the door resolutely behind him. “How are you feeling?” 

“I’m fine,” Jason said automatically. He was always ‘fine’ when his father asked, no matter how he had no money to pay for groceries that month or he’d come down with strep throat or his car had broken down so he couldn’t work, he was _fine._

“Like hell,” was Matthew’s usual response, though this time it held a bit more weight. This wasn’t something that Jason could take care of on his own with enough stubbornness and they both knew it. “Alice gave me the skinny. You’re messed up, boy.” 

Beside him, Jesse flinched and Jason scowled. Usually, it only bothered him a little when Matthew condescended, but with how Jesse reacted to the word ‘boy’—or possibly his tone of voice—Jason wouldn’t have it. _“Don’t_ call me that.” And suddenly he remembered his anger with Matthew. “This is all your fault. What the hell are you involved in? What have you been hiding from me?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Matthew didn’t bother to deny it and that made Jason’s blood boil further. “This is not how I wanted to have this conversation.” 

“Oh?” Jason snarked. “Were you going to wait until I crawled back to your side before you told me you were some kind of—of _crime lord?_ Is this what you wanted me to take over when you retire? Or maybe you had grand plans of us ruling the underworld together?”

“Well,” Matthew drawled, unaffected by Jason’s sarcasm, as usual. “You’ve always had too much of a bleeding heart for all that. But yeah, that’s the plan.” 

Jason’s eyebrows crawled up his forehead. “You’re kidding me.” 

Matthew’s face hardened. “We can have this discussion in a more...private setting at a later date,” he said, glancing at Jesse. “I’d rather not air out our dirty laundry in front of a kid who we _don’t know.”_

“His name,” Jason said slowly, clearly, “is _Jesse._ And he’s not leaving my sight.” Jesse’s shoulders relaxed slightly and he peeked at Jason from behind the bed.

Matthew’s eyes narrowed and Jason was reminded of a strict childhood, of locked doors and dreaded silence. He held his ground. “Careful, _Jason,”_ he said lowly. “I’ve indulged your whims for so long because you’re my son, but I _won’t_ tolerate disrespect.” 

Jason felt the weight of the threat for what it was. He may not know as much about his father as he thought he did, but he did know that Matthew wasn’t one to hesitate to mete out punishment. Indeed, he was surprised he’d gotten away with his rebellion as long as he had without retribution. But again, Matthew had always believed he would crawl back. This might not have happened the way he’d imagined it—Jason forced back to him broken—but Jason highly doubted he would be able to escape a second time.

God, he was so _tired._ He really didn’t need this right now. He still hadn’t wrapped his head around the fact that he was _disabled,_ still hadn’t processed the torture he’d been through. He just wanted to sleep. He wanted his crappy apartment, the dumb texts from his friends, his pillow nest on his threadbare couch. He wanted none of this to have ever happened.

He wanted his _arm to work._

Jason’s eyes closed, trying his best to suppress his emotions. It wouldn’t do to show Matthew his weakness. Although, he admitted, Jason had never reached a point so low as this. “Fine.” 

“Better,” Matthew said, clipped, and Jason seethed. “We’ll discuss the future in the morning. For now, get some rest and don’t move a muscle. I’m shipping the equipment we need to get you looked at as we speak.” 

“Wait!” Jason still had questions, dammit! He’d just found out he was the son of some kind of _Moriarty,_ for Christ’s sake. But Matthew was already gone with a pointed look at Jason and Jesse, who flinched as the door snapped shut. 

Jason’s heart sank. He felt just as trapped at that moment as he had when he’d been behind bars.

“Wh-who was that?” Jesse asked hesitantly, and Jason sighed, wishing he had more pain killers. 

“My father,” he said lowly, laying down on his right side with a wince. His arm fell like a dead weight onto the bed and he arranged it so it rested on his hip. He grit his teeth. It was like being touched by someone else. “His name is Matthew Cruz.”

“Is...is he going to lock us up?” 

The question made Jason wince because he couldn’t answer with a definite ‘no’. It wouldn’t be as awful as what Morose had put them through, but there was no escaping the fact that Matthew would keep them here as long as he damn well pleased. “We’ll be fine. If anything, he’s going to drown me— _us,_ in luxury. Nothing is going to hurt us here.” Physically, at least. Emotionally...well, there was a reason Jason left home. Several. 

Suddenly everything crashed onto Jason at once. He shivered once, twice, and then he was shaking like a leaf, the tears he’d been holding back flooding down his cheeks now that his body finally registered the danger had passed. He pressed his face into the downy pillow beneath his head, humiliated and hurting and so, so _done._ He let out a choked sob, curling into himself, flinching when he wrapped his arm around his aching middle and grazed the other without feeling it. It only made him cry harder. _Broken, broken, I’m broken, what did she do to me,_ and he was backbeneath his father’s thumb, the one place that he’d ever strived to escape. 

There was a shuffle, a whoosh of air and Jason was thrown into warm, comforting darkness. Jason’s eyes snapped open, the room blocked from his sight other than the vague light filtering through the fabric of the thin blanket he found himself under. And he was not alone. Jesse curled towards him, peering beneath too long, tangled blond hair, just a silhouette in the gloom. Jason couldn’t read his expression, but it was intense, focused in a way it hadn’t been before. His artificial eye glinted red in the half-light. “Um…” Jason mumbled, confused. 

“I do this when I cry,” Jesse said earnestly, his own voice shaking. “It doesn’t stop bad things from happening, but…” 

But it immediately made Jason feel better. It was such a childish thing to do, to hide beneath the blankets. Jason might have found it amusing, a little embarrassing even, at any other time. But he couldn't deny that he felt less exposed, almost _safe_ and definitely touched. He let out another choked sob, half a laugh. “Thank you,” he said thickly and Jesse looked surprised. The small boy nodded, cuddling just a little bit closer. Steeling himself, Jason let out a long breath and shifted his hand until it sidled beneath Jesse’s, gripping it lightly. Even that was agonizing, too much but Jesse looked so _grateful,_ and it really was the least Jason could do. 

“You’re so brave,” Jason told him, marveling at the kindness he was being shown by a boy who probably hadn’t experienced much of it in his short life. He wondered again how long this boy had been in that cage. He may not have been there his whole life, as Jason first guessed, but any amount of time was too long.

That was a line of questioning for another time. Right now, both of them desperately needed rest. 

There in the false safety of their own little world, Jason and Jesse found it between their shared breath and the hesitant entwining of fingers.

* * *

**Prompto paused in his reading, staring into nothing as the book lowered slowly into his lap. He allowed himself a brief moment to feel relief, to let out the breath he'd been holding for what seemed like hours as he suffered through Jason's worst nightmare. Prompto allowed himself to be reassured that Jason had managed to get away from those hurting him, at least for the moment.**

**But it was a short-lived relief, because some of the things he'd learned about Jason in this chapter were hard to swallow. It was true what they said—that you would never truly understand a person until you've walked a mile in their shoes. Not only had Prompto walked that hellish mile, but it had been portrayed for him in such vivid, graphic detail it was as if Prompto had looked into Jason's diary to spy on his innermost thoughts, the worst sort of breach of trust. He now knew things about Jason that were so deeply personal that Prompto doubted Jason would ever have admitted half of this aloud no matter how long their time together would last.**

**Still, what was done was done. Now all Prompto could do was try to process as best he could and hope that one day he'd get the chance to apologize.** **And it was a _lot_ to process. **

**Is...is this what Jason had been dealing with all this time? Did he really think this way; that he was abnormal? A freak?**

**What made it worse was what Jason was going through in this book was eerily similar to what had happened when he'd been spirited to Eos; abducted, shown violence and then given no time to recover. Jason had told them that his culture didn’t touch as freely as theirs did, and while that may have been a part of it he’d never mentioned _anything_ like this. ** **Maybe he’d never intended to, but now Prompto knew and he couldn’t help the sick swell of guilt and regret as he found himself reexamining every moment they’d spent together.**

**Prompto remembered when Jason had first arrived in their lives like a bomb in their midst. How _badly_ he’d been treated as they subjected him to the standards of their culture while they hardly considered his own. The way they’d misunderstood him when he sidled away from every offer of comfort and affection, no matter how innocent. He remembered Jason’s subtle fear of Gladio’s mere presence and how cross they’d all been about it. **

**Now that Prompto had a view into what was really going on in Jason’s mind, he realized—truly _understood—_ how painful it must have been. Had this been what it was like for Jason every time Gladio had reached out to touch him after that first unfortunate encounter, with this paralysis and self-hatred just as potent as any anxiety and lack of worth Prompto had ever felt within himself? Prompto hadn’t paid much attention to it back then, none of them had, because Jason had been incredibly good at hiding it. Now Prompto knows why. It wasn’t just a reaction to Gladio showing him aggression when he came to this world, but something that Jason had been dealing with his entire life, something he'd internalized as a disability _,_ a condition that became worse when he was abused. **

**It all hit _painfully_ close to home, and Prompto could relate all too well.**

**He thought of the way Jason had slowly been warming up to the rest of them, and now...now he finally saw just how remarkable it was. It had never been just a matter of Jason recognizing them as friends or getting used to them or whatever. It was him overcoming his nature, letting them behind his many protective barriers, all while they had no idea just how much it _meant_ because they couldn't see past the mask he wore over his heart. **

**Prompto knew that Jason loved them in his own way, but maybe he’d been underestimating just how much Jason had let them in. One thing was certain; Prompto had never recognized how deeply Jason’s aversion to touch went. It was hard to believe how far Jason had come if _this_ had been what it was like in the beginning.**

**He hoped it hadn't been as bad as the Guardian portrayed...**

**Jesse, though...the boy was already breaking through Jason’s walls, much faster than any of them had been able to. Prompto swallowed thickly. If Jesse had come to Eos as well, would Jason have opened up sooner, _healed_ sooner? Because it had taken Prompto _months_ to be able to touch Jason without the man flinching or pulling away, and Jason was already reaching out to this boy even through the most severe reaction he’d ever experienced. **

**_Really? Jealous over a child?_ Prompto reprimanded himself, but the fact still tightened his throat. He didn’t know what came next, but already he could see that Jesse was good for Jason. Already he could feel his heart breaking over something that hadn’t even happened yet, and with each word he read, he became more uncertain about what he should do. **

**“Haaah,” he sighed, leaning his head back against the wall behind him. This wasn’t over. Jason's father didn't seem to want to hurt him, but Prompto already dreaded what the man had in store for his son. And every sliver of pain that was inflicted on Jason bit at Prompto like spreading frostbite; only a matter of time before it started to cause permanent damage.**

**There was one way to end this torture sooner. Prompto had to find out what came next.**

**Somewhere down the alley, someone called Prompto's name...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignis interrupts Prompto's reading time.
> 
> So those of you reading Hack might notice that I focused a lot more closely on Jason’s touch phobia in this book. That’s because Jason as a character didn’t intentionally have this condition when I started Hack. It was an idea that developed over time that became more solidified as I introduced his backstory. Initially, I made Jason overly aware of others’ touch to highlight the differences in Earth/Eos cultures as well as Jason’s natural reaction to trauma, which eventually morphed into...well, this. Also, what he’s going through in the Guardian is significantly more severe than the threats he reacted poorly to in Eos at the beginning of Hack, so it made sense to me. 
> 
> Gosh, this is hard to explain. Essentially, I’ve put a name and some backstory to the reason why Jason is so skittish—other than his being graysexual, which isn’t strictly relevant in this book.   
> Jason is having a bad time.
> 
> Anyway, I already adore Jesse. He was so interesting and challenging to write. This has been pretty Jason-centric so far, but Jesse gets his fair share of development too, so look forward to that ;)
> 
> Drop me a line if you like this, it would mean the world to me :D Also, PLEASE point out areas that feel inconsistent. I've definitely been looking at this too long and I have no one willing to edit this hot mess. And my Spanish, please tell me when I'm being an idiot so I can fix it haha (I am VERY rusty...)
> 
> Or, you know, you can just send me a smiley face. That's great too :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get worse before they get better. Luckily, Jason doesn't have to go through it alone. Not anymore.

Jason woke in agony.

Lines of fire burned down his side, molten, lightning. He was aware of every second as he screamed until his voice burst and fizzled out, leaving him wheezing and coating the back of his tongue with vile iron. His whole body clenched spasmodically as electricity licked through his veins and tears ran from his wide eyes, blinding him further than the semi-darkness of the room. 

Fluttering touches ran up and down his shoulder but it only hurt more. He cringed from it, feeling as though his muscles were being pulled from his bones, a wolf ripping flesh with iron teeth. He tried to see through his panic and pain. A vision of his fingers gripping the sheets hard enough to tear the fabric apart came to him and he shouted silently, because that couldn’t be real, he couldn’t move his arm, it was  _ dead. _

But the pain was real, as if Morose stood over him all over again with her knife and perverse cackle.  _ Can you feel this? How about now? _

Jason must have found his voice again, because when a light touch ghosted over his face he screamed, thrashing away from it. But he couldn’t get away, restrained by his own, dead arm, anchored to the mattress, held down–

“Sh-shhh, niño, it’s okay, it’s okay, e-estoy aquí,” a frail, thin voice pleaded over the ringing in Jason’s ears. 

Jason’s breath came panicked and quick, but the words somehow reached him. “¿Mamá?” Jason whimpered. “¿Mamá? Duele, ¿por qué duele?”

“I-I don’t understand,” the voice wavered and the strokes across his face came quicker, more urgent. “Jason! J-Jason, um, estoy aquí, shhh.” 

As abruptly as it started, Jason’s pain ceased. His entire body seemed to cave in on itself, cells collapsing, inflated balloons popping and leaving him utterly empty. His vision spotted, whited out, and finally, finally, he could see again. What he found was Jesse, leaning over him and petting Jason’s sweaty face, tears rolling down his left cheek and face crumpled in fear. “J-Jesse?”

“Niño, estoy aquí, estoy aquí,” Jesse said tremulously. 

Jason blinked slowly, and it was several seconds before he realized that Jesse was talking to him in Spanish. That couldn’t be right...Until he remembered that those were the exact words he told Jesse when he came for him in Morose’s operating room. Jesse had been trying to comfort him, but Jason may very well be the first to ever teach him what that was like. He coughed a small laugh, disbelieving. He couldn’t believe Jesse had remembered that so perfectly. “I’m not a niño,” he corrected with a croak. “I’m way too old for that.” 

Jesse’s face crumpled with relief and he threw himself over Jason with a sob. Stifled, Jason struggled to breath while he patted the child’s back stiffly. “What–h-happened? You just started sh-shaking and screaming–”

“Shh, it’s alright. Estoy aquí, estas bien,” Jason mumbled, distracted. What had happened? He glanced at his now limp arm, but once again, he couldn’t feel anything. It just sat there, unresponsive. An acrid smell hit Jason’s nose a moment later and he cringed. What was…

Pushing Jesse off of him gently, Jason sat up and reached back, creeping his hand over his numb shoulder. Even on the skin he could feel there was nothing but a light pressure beneath his thick bandages. They were smooth, untouched...until he reached just a little further back. “Ouch,” Jason hissed, pulling his fingers quickly away from the device. It was burning hot, had seared through his bandages. Jason paled even further. If it had burned through the bandages, what has it done to his  _ shoulder? _

Before he could properly panic, the door burst open, sending Jason’s heart right back into a racing tumble. Two men barged in, dressed in black suits with  _ guns, _ and Jason practically threw himself over a startled Jesse, shielding him with his aching body. 

“Mr. Cruz!” one of them shouted. “What happened? Was there an attack? Holy–” he cut himself off, no doubt seeing the massive burn on Jason’s back. Jason was honestly glad he hadn’t caught fire.

Jason took a deep breath, trying his best to banish the buzzing in his ears, adrenaline a harsh bleach scouring his blood. It was only security. They were still safe. He eased off of Jesse, who looked up at him with naked fear. “It was nothing,” he said to them, forcing himself to make eye contact. “I’m fine. Can you please get Doctor Alice?”

With a skeptical exchange of glances, the two security guards gave a curt nod. “Of course, sir. If you need anything, we’ll be just outside.” 

“Thank you,” Jason said, exhaustion creeping back up to him now that his adrenaline was petereing away. He glanced at the alarm clock at his bedside and groaned. Already six in the morning. Might as well get up and stay that way. Besides, there was no way he was going to be able to sleep after that. 

* * *

“Your injury is miraculously unaffected, as far as I can tell,” Alice said incredulously. 

Jason lifted a brow. Jesse was sitting on the other side of the room, picking idly at a plate of food and looking anywhere but at the two of them. Jason got the feeling he wanted nothing to do with Alice, specifically. He couldn’t really blame him. He’d been through a lot at the hands of a woman, the only one it appeared he’d had any contact with. “It burned through the bandages.” 

“Yes, however it appears all of the heat was released outward. Remarkable.”

“That’s...great, I guess,” Jason said slowly. How could he possibly have endured that much pain if he wasn’t actually being injured? He asked. 

“It sounds as if the device awakened your severed nerves. Think of it this way; when circulation is cut off from an extremity, what happens when that blood flow is restored?”

“It stings,” Jason answered. This seemed a little more extreme than that, but he guessed that logic was sound enough. “You said it reawakened my nerves? Why can’t I feel anything still?” 

“Hm. I’m a doctor, not an engineer, so I’m not entirely certain.” Alice’s brow crumpled in frustration. “And I'm not entirely certain any sort of scan is going to be terribly helpful. With all of this metal, the likelihood of getting anything useful out of it is slim. We could assess your bones and make educated guesses about what happened neurologically, but that will probably be it.”

“What exactly are you saying?” 

Alice sighed. “Look, Jason, we have a couple options. One, we try to remove the tech and hope that you heal, which has a next to zero chance of success and may cause further irreparable damage with how much...restructuring was done to accommodate the device. Or two; we can leave the machine as is. It doesn’t appear to be hurting you, and there is a very real chance that what she was trying to do will work.” 

Jason felt sick. He didn’t want to consider keeping this vile woman’s machine in his body. Aside from the pain that it caused him, it was as if it were a mark of ownership, a reminder of his objectification. The scars will always be there even if he didn’t remove it though, there was no escaping that. 

“I…” 

He was silent for a very long time. Jesse was watching him now, but Jason couldn’t meet his eyes. 

A sigh. “Think it over. For now, let’s wrap up your arm so you don’t disturb your injuries if it activates again. There is no additional damage, so as long as you take it easy, you should heal up in about six weeks.” Alice stood, and after carefully wrapping Jason’s arm to his chest, Jason cringing through every second of it, she left the two of them alone. Jesse seemed to breathe a sigh of relief once she was gone. 

“...What do you think I should do?” Jason asked softly, picking at the bandages over the awkward package that was once his arm. Was it fair of him to ask advice from a ten year old? Probably not. But Jesse may be the only person that could possibly understand what Jason was going through. He had, in fact, been through more of it. It made for a singular perspective. 

“If you want to know whether the device will work, I can say that it’s likely,” Jesse said in that too intelligent way of his. Jason looked up, surprised. “I’ve seen a fair few of Ma’am’s experiments turn out successful.” 

“You...have?” 

Jesse nodded slowly. “I’ve seen her reconnect a spine that had been severed. Build a perfectly functioning hand. Replace male genitals,” Jason cringed, incredulous, but Jesse just kept listing things as if it were nothing to him. Perhaps it wasn’t. “A leg…” he drifted off. “A few did fail, but ma’am just killed them and moved on.” 

Jason gaped. “How do you know all this?” 

Jesse stared at him unflinchingly. “She liked it when I watched. I’m not always locked up, you know. I’m only ever punished when I’ve been bad.” 

Jason swallowed harshly, face drained of all color. “What did you do to get locked up when I found you?” 

“I waited too long to do as I was told.” 

“And the punishment for that is to be locked naked in a freezing cell?” 

“And no food until I’ve learned my lesson,” Jesse said monotone, eyes dulling, as if he’d heard this many, many times. 

Jason gaped, eyes wide and smarting as he took in the small child–so small, and sad. He stood, not even wincing once as he made his way around the table. Kneeling at Jesse’s feet and looking up into his eyes, Jason promised, “You will never go hungry with me. I won’t let it happen ever again. A-and, you can always, always say no.” 

Jesse stared down at him silently, and Jason could see that he wanted to believe him but didn’t really and it broke his heart. There was something enigmatic in his eyes, some breach that Jason couldn’t pass through, not yet. “You’re the first person who ever saw me,” Jesse said quietly instead of acknowledging the promise, brash but sincere as it was. “It was like everyone else couldn’t see that I was there. I was invisible, but you saw me.” Jason rocked back on his heels, shocked, but Jesse continued before he could say anything. “Ma’am made me study all the time. There was a room with a monitor and I would watch videos of classrooms with children in them, and sometimes there was a man who commented on the work I did. Whenever he said I made an error, ma’am punished me…Sometimes there were days where people came to our house and ma’am would cut them up just like she did to you. They would stay for a while and whatever was broken would be fixed or she would kill them…then Mr. Marvin came.” 

Jesse was rocking back and forth on his heels, chin tucked deeply into his knees. His blue eye went distant, sad. “Ma’am said he was fascinating, but he didn’t have any money. She wanted to fix him anyway. But he wouldn’t let her until he knew it would work. She said...she said it always worked, and he told her to prove it. He attacked me…” 

Jason’s breath caught, and Jesse worked his jaw, eye filling with tears. Jason saw the scars around the black orb within with a new kind of horror. Ragged, brutal...as if his eye had been gouged out by a savage animal.

“And she did,” he whispered, and finally hid his face behind his arms, shoulders shaking. 

“Aye por Dios,” Jason whispered, horrified. 

“I don’t want to go back there, I don’t want to go back there, I…” Jesse started chanting until his words became muffled and unrecognizable and Jason scrambled for something, anything to say. “She’s going to come for me, I know it, I know it–”

“No. She won’t reach you, I won’t let her,” Jason said vehemently, and he meant it.

“She’s still out there, though,” he shot back miserably, sniffling and huddling into himself deeper. “I tried to escape before but she found me, she always finds me.”

“Not this time,” Jason said more firmly.

“How do you know?”

“Because...because I’m going to do something about it. She won’t reach you, chiquito, I promise.” He didn’t know how, but he would make sure of it.

“How touching,” a voice came from the open doorway and Jason froze.

“Dad,” Jason said, slowly getting to his feet and standing subtly in front of the still shaking boy. He erased as much emotion from his face as he could. He really didn’t need to give Matthew any more ammunition than he already had. 

Matthew lifted a brow. “I see you’re feeling better.” 

“‘Better’ is relative, but...yeah, I guess.” 

“Good. Come with me. We need to talk.” 

Matthew turned from the room, clearly expecting Jason to follow. Jason sighed, looking to Jesse’s shaking form. He kneeled down again. “Hey, are you alright?” 

“The prosthetic is functioning normally,” Jesse said flatly, almost too quiet for Jason to hear and Jason frowned. He was back to giving status updates on that damn machine. 

“Jason. Now,” Matthew called, and Jason knew he didn’t have time to settle Jesse as he wanted. 

“I’ll be back soon,” Jason told him quietly, though he wasn’t certain the boy could hear him. “Try to get some rest.” With a heavy feeling in his heart, Jason draped a blanket over Jesse as the boy had done for him the night before. He was rewarded to see Jesse relax, if only slightly. He left, closing the door quietly behind him. 

Matthew stood on the other side, waiting. Jason barely glanced at him, indicating he should lead the way.

Matthew didn’t move for several moments. “That boy.”

“Jesse.”

“Right, sure. Does his prosthetic actually work?” 

Jason gave him a sideways look, but Matthew was contemplating the door. It made him uncomfortable. “I haven’t asked.” Not that Jesse hadn’t been giving constant updates anyway. Matthew didn’t need to know that. 

“Hm.” Matthew said noncommittally before striding down the hallway at a quick pace. Jason moved to follow, keeping up with his equally long stride easily. There had been a long time in his youth when he had to jog to keep up with his father. Not anymore. Jason stood slightly taller than the man now, although he probably would never be able to match him in presence. Matthew Cruz seemed to fill a space no matter how large, and he demanded attention as if the world owed it to him. 

Jason was just...Jason. The best he could do was to not fold beneath the crushing weight his father imposed.

Matthew led him down several hallways and Jason took in his surroundings dully. Just an office building, as he’d suspected, some unremarkable city sprawled out beneath it. There didn’t seem to be anyone in it save for Matthew and his ever present security, a constant presence in Jason’s youth. Now he was starting to understand why his father always had them in place. 

Finally they stopped at a large oak door, stolid in its pretentiousness. It opened to an equally pretentious office and Jason nearly rolled his eyes at the red carpet and imposing wooden desk. It was as if his father thought himself president or something. Jason wouldn’t put it past him. 

Matthew moved to take a seat in the large, throne-like chair behind the polished wood, and gestured for Jason to take a seat across from him. When Jason complied wearily, squashing down the insistent feeling as though he’d been called to the principal’s office, Matthew pulled out a decanter and poured them both a shot of ambre liquid. 

Matthew eyed Jason over the rim of his glass, Jason meeting his gaze as he could and not touching his own. He was still on some powerful painkillers after all, though he probably wouldn’t have accepted it anyway.

“So.” 

Jason waited, internally steeling himself. He knew what was coming. 

“I hope you understand, but I won’t allow you to go back to Texas.” 

There it was. He glared, but Matthew was unaffected. 

“And before you start your usual nonsense–”

“Alright,” Jason said, and Matthew lifted a manicured brow in surprise. 

“Alright?” 

Swallowing, Jason nodded. “I’ll stay. But I need you to do something for me first.” His heart raced, stomach swirling with nerves. But he’d had a thought earlier, something that Sean said. Though he loathed to admit it, he needed his father’s help.

“This is a surprise,” Matthew said slowly, assessingly. “I offered you anything your heart desired in the past. What changed?” He scanned Jason, who clenched his jaw. “Are you really that frightened that she’ll find you again?” 

Jason remained stubbornly silent. 

“No…” Matthew said with a small, growing smirk. “The boy, then. You want to protect him, not yourself. Well, I hate to say it, but I can’t do anything about that. That thug, Sean Silo, told me everything. The boy is Morose’s child, and I’ve managed to find nothing on her at all but some rather interesting rumors. We couldn’t keep the boy from her if we tried, and I really don’t want the state pawing all over my things.” 

Jason scowled at being called a thing. “You can do something about it.”

Matthew lifted a brow. “Oh? Do tell.” 

“You’re rich, apparently a multi-billionaire. I find it hard to believe you couldn’t forge some simple documents.” 

Now Matthew looked intrigued. He leaned forward, lacing his fingers together to rest in front of his smirk. “Forge some documents.” He chuckled. “I think you’ve been reading too many comics, boy.” 

“Don’t call me that,” Jason snapped, but couldn’t contain his startlement when Matthew stood, slamming his hands onto the table with a loud report. 

“You will show some respect,  _ boy, _ or I will make you,” he threatened, deadly quiet. When Jason remained silent, he resumed his seat, pleasant mask back into place. “Firstly, I think you’re under some sort of misunderstanding. I’m not a–how did you put it?– _ crime lord _ . I simply provide certain services to those willing to pay.” 

“Services,” Jason said flatly.

“Yes, services. Usually things like making undesirables disappear, transferring power in a company or two, destroying others,” he ticked them off his fingers casually, and Jason started to feel sick. “Most memorably, getting rid of a prime minister with too much time on her hands and a bleeding heart. That was a fun one.” 

“You’re an assassin?” Jason asked, just a little strangled. 

Matthew outright laughed at that. “Not me personally, and not all jobs end in someone dead. Just usually. No, I deal in  _ information. _ I happen to know the right people at the right time, and with just the right secrets, well...there’s little that won’t go my way.” 

“What about,” Jason’s throat was dry, was it getting hot in here? “What about your car business? And the banking platform? The tech companies?” 

“Ah. Well, those are all legitimate, of course. Mostly.” Matthew waved them away, as if they weren’t terribly important. “My point is, that hardly makes me a crime lord.” 

“What exactly do you want from me?” Jason said with a growing sensation of a noose wrapping about his throat. He couldn’t be involved in  _ murder. _ The very thought made his hair rise and his stomach rebel. 

“Someone has to run things on the front end,” Matthew said, watching Jason like a hawk. He could see right through him, had always been able to and Jason hated it. “You see, I’ve been finding it harder and harder these days to find people I trust to take care of things, and while you’ll probably be useless on the more...delicate side of things, your pretty face will do well to keep the media at bay. So you can put that dreaded look away, I’m not going to ask you to do anything that might morally compromise you.” 

“Morally compromise,” Jason said in disbelief. “You just told me you ruin people's lives for money and you want to use me as a cover, and you think that isn't going to  _ morally compromise _ me?” 

“So sensitive.” Matthew mused, and Jason’s head was starting to spin. He’d never suspected anything like this. Never. It was as if the man who’d raised him no longer existed and a devil sat in his place, wearing the face Jason once knew while pointing Jason down the road of damnation. “But you’ll do what I ask of you, especially if you want to keep that brat out of trouble. You don’t even have to do anything but make an appearance now and again. You know, to keep up morale like all those cute startup CEOs that the media loves so much. Luckily you got your looks from your mother, if nothing else.” 

Jason’s vision swam, his father’s smug face fluttering in and out of focus. Matthew was using Jesse as a bargaining chip, had masterfully turned this around on Jason and he was struggling to see a way out. He thought he might be able to make a deal with the man; Jason would stay beneath his thumb and he would get a way to protect Jesse, maybe help him have some sort of life where he wouldn’t have to hide. And now Jason was Matthew’s ‘pretty face’ to shield his foul misdeeds from the media, and Jesse had gained nothing but a new, gilded prison cell. 

This was so, so wrong. How did he fix this, _ how did he fix this? _

“Now, now, no need to look so stricken, son,” Matthew said, sauntering to the other side of the desk and placing a hand on Jason’s good shoulder, every ounce the cat that got the canary. “You may be disfigured now, but I get the feeling that that will only make you more endearing. And don’t worry about the boy. I’ll be sure to  _ forge some papers _ for you. Though I expect a blood heir at some point, don’t mistake me.” He leaned down to whisper in Jason’s ear, Jason still much too shocked to react other than to stare blankly out the window into the dull, sunless landscape. “This is going to be a great partnership. I can’t wait to tell your mother.” 

Matthew left. Jason didn’t move.

It was about an hour before he could. On numb legs, he walked to the door and pushed it open, walking back to the makeshift hospital room that he and Jesse had been staying in. 

Jesse. 

The boy was sitting where he’d left him, though he had uncurled at some point and now sipped on a hot drink, eyes distant. When Jason entered the room, he perked up with a slight smile. It fell when he saw Jason’s face.

Jason took three long strides to reach him before collapsing beside his chair, burying his head in his knees. Jesse made an alarmed noise and scrambled to crouch down in front of Jason, pulling uselessly at his sleeve to try and see his face. “Jason? Jason?” His was the only touch at this point that Jason could stand. 

“Lo siento,” Jason whispered, and then he did it over and over again. He’d told Jesse that he was free, had thought he was. He thought both of them were. After escaping certain death and torture, after escaping the cages they’d been placed in, after escaping  _ her, _ they’d only ended up in another prison. Once again, Jason wasn’t even a person, just a convenient bag of flesh for that woman, and now his father, to exploit. 

He’d failed.

* * *

Recovery was slow going. Every once in a while his arm would respond with a flashfire of agony, only to go back into dormancy and leave Jason a sweaty, shaken mess. He left the limb unrapped now, and over the last couple of weeks his wounds had healed nicely, or so he’d been told, unwilling to try and look at them in the mirror. He really didn’t need the visual when the idea and reality of it was already so severe. Alice insisted that he continue to massage his limb in case he regained functionality, even if it was intensely disturbing to do so. Still, he did it, recalling with a haunting sort of dread the sickly, skeletal fingers that had poked out of Marvin’s limp sleeve. He could already see some atrophy in his ruined limb, and it gave him nightmares frequently to imagine that in just a matter of months that could very well be him. 

Disfigured. Disabled. Such ugly words. And yet, they described him, now. He held out very little hope that, other than giving him horrible bouts of pain and muscle cramps, the prosthetic would actually repair his arm’s functionality. Sometimes the spasms came out of nowhere, when he wasn’t even thinking of moving the arm, or when he was sleeping. It was like he was possessed by some wrathful ghosts of greed that compelled him to grasp and clutch and  _ take _ . Sometimes he felt like his entire body wasn’t his. He was starting to dread the smell of burnt fabric, had lost count of how many shirts he’d ruined at this point. 

Matthew, thankfully, had left him mostly alone in the past couple weeks. In fact, he hadn’t even been in the building, going off who knows where to take care of business. For the first time in a long time, Jason was surrounded by cold luxury on the demeaning condition that he ‘behave’. Anything he asked for would be his, if he said the word. He never did, but that didn't stop the ‘gifts’ of expensive clothes and the latest tech–video game systems that weren’t even on the market yet, a new phone, a freaking  _ Tesla _ what’s app was already installed on said phone and recognized him as  _ Jason _ –though he never touched any of it. Didn’t want any of it. 

Jesse though...he was opening himself up little by little, and that, at least, was giving Jason a reason to smile. Jesse, who admitted to barely ever being allowed outside, revelled in the sunlight touching his skin, despite the persistent cold. He’d finally adjusted to the brightness, and his eyesight was no longer giving him trouble. He asked every day if he could go out into the building’s spacious gardens. Jason always told him he didn’t need to ask as long as Jason knew where he was, and every time, Jesse’s eyes got a little bit brighter. 

Jesse, who had never slept on anything more comfortable than a hard cot, rolled around in utter delight on the massive king-sized bed he’d been given when Jason was well enough to move out of the medical room and into Matthew’s ridiculous penthouse. Jason’s room was next door, though he found himself staying with Jesse more often than not, if only to keep his own nightmares at bay. 

Jesse, who’d never played a game in his life, who now had every single game a child could ever ask for and begged Jason to play with him as often as he could. Jason taught him how to play Sorry, and Go Fish, and introduced him to the SEGA and the first videogame Jason ever got his hands on as a kid, even if he couldn’t actually play the games anymore. It was enough to share what he knew, the older man finding joy in the delight that Jesse showed when introduced to something Jason loved. 

Jesse absorbed it all like a sea sponge that had never experienced the ocean, and every day his face got just a little more flushed, his skin a little more alive. All of it was like a wonderland to him, a possibility he never knew existed. It was as if he didn’t even notice the grim guards that patrolled the halls and watched the two of them like hawks, the way the entire building was devoid of all people who might have worked there, the looming dread that hung over Jason’s every thought and expression. But of course, it was easy to figure once it became apparent that Jesse didn’t have the slightest idea what ‘normal’ was.

So Jason wanted him to enjoy it while he could. He had once felt that way himself, spoiled rotten by all the material gains he could ever want, but it was only a matter of time before Jesse realized the cage for what it was, as Jason had. Until then...Jason just wanted him to be the child he never could before. 

It wasn’t all roses and daisies, however. Jesse was still mortally afraid of women, something Alice found frustrating and terribly sad. Sometimes...sometimes it was like Jesse wasn’t even there. Jason would find him after hours of searching, hunching over himself and shaking like he’d never left that awful place, like he still sat naked in a dark, freezing cell clouded with the unprovoked disapproval from the only person he could have ever called ‘mother’. It would take a while of coaxing and gentle words before he would acknowledge Jason’s existence, and even longer before he would believe that this world he was in was actually real, that Jason was really there and it hadn’t all been a dream. 

Speaking of dreams. 

If Jason believed his nightmares were bad, then it was nothing compared to the terrors Jesse seemed to face on a nightly basis. How could Jesse not, when he could without outward flinching describe someone being ‘cut up’ and killed by his own mother’s hands. How could he not when he himself hadn’t been immune to her machinations, the bond of shared blood an insufficient shield to the woman who the term ‘mother’ could never truly be applied. Why she had even gone through with the pregnancy when she cared so little for the child she brought into this world confounded Jason to no end. Maybe she had just thought it ‘fascinating’, another experiment to run in her endless pursuit of her own hubris. The thought made his blood run cold as surely as the screams of terror that woke him from his own troubled dreams some nights, far too often for his liking. On those nights, he would put aside his particular disposition and hold Jesse, because even if physical touch never comforted Jason the way it seemed to comfort others, it was what Jesse  _ needed _ . 

It was on the morning after such an episode, where both Jason and Jesse sat exhausted in front of their morning meal without any real desire to touch it, that Matthew fulfilled his end of their rather one-sided bargain. 

Jason startled as a manilla envelope slapped onto the table with aplomb, nearly making him spill his coffee all over his front and effectively wrenching him from his meandering thoughts. Jesse reacted similarly, though he seemed to relax when he realized that he wasn’t under attack. With the night they just had, it was actually a miracle he didn’t dive for the dubious safety of the table’s underside, like Jason and very nearly given into the urge to do. 

“Uh,” Jason said eloquently, looking up from the unremarkable envelope to find the startling visage of a very disheveled Sean. Jason blinked several times, thinking his eyes might be deceiving him, but no, in front of him stood one of the very people who had been responsible for all of this mess in the first place. This was the second time Jason had thought he had gotten rid of Sean and his psycho partner only for them to reappear like some sort of deus ex machina, although this time there wasn’t any desperate need to escape, at least not in the same way as before. 

The man stared back at Jason impassively and looked like he could use the coffee that Jason hadn’t touched. “Now, I know what you’re thinking, and no, I’m not here to kidnap you again. I value my life too much for that.” He sat down with a huff, uninvited and not giving a damn. “Plus, no one is paying me to do that anymore.” 

“Then why are you here?” Jason said, a tensed spring coiling up in his chest as all the unwanted memories from his ordeal assaulted him at once. He already had nightmares about it, he really didn’t need a visual reminder. 

“Your dad pays well,” he said flippantly. “Besides, he may have subtly threatened to track me down and behead me or something to that effect if I made off with all the ‘sensitive’ information I have. Although I’m fairly certain he just finds my skills valuable more than anything else.” 

“Yeah,” Jason said faintly, wondering exactly what ‘skills’ Sean referred to, since all he knew of him was his disillusionment to violence and his résumé of prison breaks. “He’s like that. He was never one to let talent go when he saw it. Where’s Vic?” 

“Oh, she’s around here somewhere. He was a mite less pleased that she stuck around, but like I told him, we’re a package deal. Even if she’s a crazy bitch most of the time, she has her uses.”

Jason raised his hand, resigned. “I don’t want to know.” 

Sean gave him a small smirk, probably because he could see right through him. “So, how’s it going with you? Still defective, I see.” He eyed Jason up and down, particularly lingering on the arm hanging impotent at his side. Jason was really getting tired of the looks he garnered on a daily basis, as if even the people he saw every day couldn’t get over the fact that his arm didn’t work. He’d almost taken to wearing a trench coat everywhere he went just to avoid the stares, but he was already a big guy, and adding that much fabric to his considerable frame was only going to make him more noticeable. It was partially why he hadn’t seen fit to leave the building since his arrival. 

Annoyance burned the back of Jason’s throat, and he snapped, “It’s your fault I’m like this.” He turned slightly away, as if that movement could possibly hide half of his body from Sean’s assessment. 

Sean lifted his hands in surrender. “Hey, now, I was just the driver. I’m not the one who drugged you and used you for experiments. And I rescued your ass, didn’t I?” 

Jason wasn’t sure ‘incredulous’ could quite describe the contortions his face made at the fact that Sean thought he could absolve himself of guilt by being ‘just the driver’. 

The only thing that stopped the heady tide of anger and disbelief was the point that Sean made next. “Look, it was nothing personal. Besides, if we hadn’t done all that, who would have rescued sunshine over here?” 

At that Jason glanced at Jesse, who was watching them both enigmatically. He didn’t join the conversation–though Jason was now certain he understood all of it, the boy having proved himself intelligent to a fault, if naive of certain things–but a small twist of his lips was all the input Jason needed. 

If Jason hadn’t been kidnapped, they wouldn't have found each other and Jesse would still be locked up, possibly awaiting more procedures that would tear his young body apart until he was spent. Jason swallowed roughly, nodding once. “Yeah,” he croaked. Jesse shot him a look, and Jason knew they would have to talk about it later, more meaning in that one breathless syllable should possibly convey, and yet not nearly enough. But not in front of this man whose sole motivation was how much he could line his pockets. 

“So what do you want?” Jason deflected the tension and Sean’s perceptive observation, wanting nothing more than for this man to get to the point so he could leave them in peace. 

Sean smirked conspiratorially. “I’m just here to deliver these and offer my congratulations.”

“What…” Jason trailed off as he undid the flap and pulled several sheets from the manilla folds. One was a birth certificate, superfluous in embellishment and looking as official as any Jason had ever seen. The State Department of Iowa was emblazoned across the top in an archaic font, followed by two names belonging to a man and a woman proclaimed parents, and finally Jesse’s name with a common last name beside it, ‘Smith’. The second page was adoption certificates naming...Jason as legal guardian.

Jason’s thoughts halted, ensnared and hopelessly tangled in the web of his own panic. For some reason, it hadn’t truly hit him what it was he was trying to do. He was...he was now Jesse’s legal guardian, or in other terms, his effective father. 

A father. Jason, a  _ father. _ It all at once made his stomach roil with dread and self doubt, along with all of the negative emotions associated with the word stemming from his own familial relations. He hated that word, and he sure as hell didn’t want to associate it with his and Jesse’s relationship. 

Guardian, though...he could be that. 

But even with that concession came another startling series of realizations that now seemed painfully obvious, shoved to the back of his mind and suppressed until now but unearthed forcefully by the insubstantial weight of the documents between his shaking fingers.

This wasn’t just helping the boy out from a terrible situation. This was binding them together, legally and forever, as family. He was now tasked with providing, protecting,  _ loving _ the boy until he became an adult, and supporting him forevermore until Jason’s dying day. It was so  _ stupid, _ but he hadn’t thought past the immediate of their situation. Certainly separation hadn’t even occurred to him, but beyond the healing and the camaraderie they’d built and drama after drama layered on top of their current situation, he hadn’t fully considered all the implications of what he himself had started. 

“Those are all official, of course, and legally binding,” Sean said, either oblivious to Jason’s obvious inner turmoil or willfully ignoring it. “They aren’t even forged, believe it or not! Jesse Smith is a real child the boy’s age, and he now lives happily in Paris with his parents. They had to flee the country because of a, ah,  _ delicate _ set of circumstances, and were more than happy to give up his identity in exchange for French citizenship. Convenient, no?” Sean winked, and Jason was still finding it hard to draw breath. “The adoption papers are also real. Seems like your dear old dad has some friends in the system. Thorough is what he is. I’m impressed.” 

Carefully placing down the adoption papers with the name  _ Jesse Cruz _ emblazoned along the top, Jason flipped through the rest of the documents. A social security card, homeschool education scores, medical records and old residences of living–it was, as Sean said, impressively thorough. “Do you think this will stop Morose from interfering with us?” Jason asked eventually. 

“Legally, maybe,” Sean replied. He shrugged. “Though I wouldn’t put it past her to try another abduction down the line.” 

Jason was afraid of that. Her existence was still a problem that couldn't be avoided, not if she was as persistent as Sean made her out to be. Also, Jesse would never get peace of mind with her out there somewhere, and frankly, neither would Jason. Still, this eased a lot of his fears, even if it presented all new ones Jason wasn’t sure he would ever truly be ready for. With this, no one would legally be able to get ahold of Jesse without Jason’s consent and considerable subterfuge–or digging, as the case may be. But also, now Jesse had the protection of Jason’s father, as dubious as that protection may be, because without him, Matthew will have considerably less sway over Jason’s decisions. Jason hated to think of it that way, but he did have some say in how this all worked. If his needs in regards to Jesse weren’t met, then neither was his father’s aims for Jason. 

“...Jason? What’s going on?” Jesse finally interrupted, and Jason paled. Oh, no. He hadn’t even asked Jesse….he hadn’t even thought…

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Sean said with amusement glinting in his eyes. Jason hated him for it. But his glare didn’t do anything to dissuade Sean from getting up and leaving them to their discussion with a jaunty wave. It was only several seconds later that Jason realized that he’d swiped his coffee. 

“Jason?” Jesse was staring down at the papers on the table, eyes widening as he spotted his name all over them. Before Jason could stop him, he swiped the topmost pages from the pile, looking at them with a furrowed brow. “What are these?” 

He was reading them swiftly, but Jason realized that he may still not know exactly what he was looking at, had probably never seen these types of documents before or knew their purpose. 

“They’re identification papers for you,” Jason tried to explain, starting from the beginning. “That one is a record of your birth, this one is a form of identification all Americans have called social security, and this is, uh…” he paused before enunciating carefully, “your adoption papers.” 

“Adoption…” Jesse’s brows furrowed in confusion before reciting rote, “The action or fact of choosing to take up, follow, or use something. But what does that have to do with me?” He mouthed ‘legal guardian’, eyes widening at Jason’s name beside it. Jesse looked up at him, almost a flinch, as if waking from a pleasant dream and finding himself in a nightmare. “A-are you going to  _ use _ me?” he asked tremulously, betrayal written on every line of his face. 

Jason inhaled sharply, appalled that Jesse had come to the completely wrong conclusion. “No! No, that’s not what it means at all, wait–”

But Jesse was already standing, backing away from him as his blue eye filled with tears. “I knew it. You’re just like  _ her, _ lying to me all the time and then hurting me. I knew this couldn’t be real, I–”

“NO!” Jason shouted, standing up abruptly and almost upending the table. Despite Jason’s actual intentions, it was the exact wrong thing to do, and Jesse bolted for the door. Jason tried to stop him, but a splintering agony down his arm rendered him immobile and he went down with a cry. He convulsed, body curled up around his limb and forehead pressed to the ground, blinded by it. He clenched his teeth through the spasms, though, having already been through this enough that he could contain his voice, careful not to bite his tongue again as he had the first couple times. He breathed slowly, hissing every other exhale, and eventually the pain passed, leaving him shaking and weakened. 

When he was finally strong enough, he braced his hands against the floor and picked himself up, rubbing his face, an odd sensation when one of his hands couldn’t feel it. 

Jason froze, eyes opening wide, and pulled his hands back as if burned. Hands, as in  _ both of them _ . He stared at the limb that had been entirely unresponsive until now, and flinched when it clenched and released. He couldn’t feel it, still, hadn’t even consciously thought to move it, and yet it responded. It  _ responded. _

Adulation filled him, swelling his chest and overflowing his eyes, blurring the image of his shaking palm. He could move it. He could move it! Clenching it and releasing it several more times, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, Jason finally looked away from it with a blinding smile, wanting to share this improbable, insane victory with Jesse. 

But Jesse was gone, only an official piece of paper on the floor to mark his swift exit. Jason bent over to pick it up with the hand he could feel, not wanting to push his luck. His smile was wiped away with the remembrance of how badly he’d fucked this up with his usual careless impulsiveness and it made him feel dirty, as if he’d violated Jesse by taking away the choice he should have had, no matter how he did it to protect him. Jesse may have come to the wrong conclusion based on the only definition of the word ‘adoption’ he knew, but it wasn’t entirely inaccurate. Jason should have talked with him about it, should have discussed his options–and no matter how dire this situation, Jesse had  _ options _ –instead of steamrolling that freedom of choice out of desperation to keep him safe. And now they were both paying the price. 

Jason collapsed back into his chair, staring blankly at the document in his hand. What if Jesse didn’t want to be with Jason? What if he wanted to have nothing to do with him after this? Jason could have–fuck, put him in witness protection or something, right? He could have thought about this more before forcing Jesse to be his goddamn  _ family. _ Jesse could have actually gotten to  _ choose  _ who he wanted to be his guardian, maybe even would want to pursue anyone out there who shared his blood. 

Jason couldn’t stop the tide of rejection as it washed over him, suffocated him. Jesse hadn’t outright done so because he hadn’t quite understood, but he was going to anyway once everything came to light. Why would he want someone like Jason–Jason, who could barely touch someone without breaking into hives and would never be able to provide the tactile love someone like Jesse needed, who couldn’t talk about his feelings to save his life, who had been so utterly  _ broken _ even before he’d been taken? The love of Jason’s life hadn’t wanted him for the very same reasons, why would Jesse be any different? 

Him, a guardian. If ever there was someone who wouldn’t be fit for such a role, it was Jason. 

Still, he loved all the same. Just because he couldn’t stand the thought of skin against his, of sharing the same air with someone else, didn’t mean he didn’t feel.  _ Everything. _ Perhaps more acutely than anyone else, to his detriment. He’d loved Lydia, and now, despite the short if eventful interim in which they’d known each other, he loved Jesse. But neither would have him because of what he was. Idly, he stroked Jesse’s name, written in flowing script beneath his own, appalled that he’d taken from Jesse that choice. Maybe he could undo it, maybe–

Jason’s finger paused on the clause beneath their names. Beside the judge’s decree, almost hidden in the flow of legal jargon, was a consent form and a place for Jesse’s signature. 

It was blank. 

It was  _ blank. _

Which meant this document was not yet complete. 

Maybe Jason could still fix this.

* * *

Jason found him in the garden.

The area between Matthew’s building and the next was a spacious sanctuary, shaded liberally by oak and paved in stepping stones, paths leading to the central area where a small circle of ferns created a courtyard. The season was late and the ground was covered in snow–less so than outside of the protection of the trees, but enough that it put even the sturdiest of plants into dormancy. Jason stepped through the archway into the glade, a path that had become familiar to him over the past several weeks of recovery, because this was Jesse’s absolute favorite spot. 

Cold bit into Jason as a stiff breeze blew through, raising gooseflesh on his skin. He didn’t notice it in his hesitant stride, too nervous to care much that he’d forgotten his coat in his haste. Sure enough, as soon as he stepped out into the alcove, Jesse came into view, huddled around his knees in the only sunny spot not shielded by the trees. Light from the sun above streamed into the glade, too far to really bring warmth to this high elevation this late in the season, but enough to delight Jesse every time it kissed his too pale skin, sprinkling him with budding freckles with every hour out here he spent. Now Jason wondered what comfort he drew from it, because it didn’t look like it was nearly enough to make a dent in his distress. 

Jason hesitated when he saw the boy, at once overwhelmingly relieved to see that he hadn’t been so angry that he ran away, but equally chagrined at the reason he’d fled in the first place. The adoption contract made a slight crinkling noise as his fist tightened about it, and it was enough to make Jesse flinch ever so slightly where he sat, hunching in on himself further. 

“Jesse,” Jason said softly, glad that only he and Jesse were crazy enough to be outside in this weather. Somewhere out of hearing distance a man pulled out a cigarette to smoke, but Jason didn’t pay him any mind. 

Jesse didn’t respond. With a sigh and a steely resolve, Jason walked over and sat on the bench beside him, placing the contract down and folding his hands together guiltily. He winced as his newly awakened limb clenched its counterpart’s fingers just a bit too tightly and released his hold, letting his hands rest against his knees instead. “I’m sorry,” Jason started, Jesse a silent presence at his side. “I should have asked you first. When I thought that someone might come to take you away, I...panicked.” 

“I’m not an object,” Jesse said, though his words were muffled. “That’s what you told me.” 

“You’re not,” Jason agreed, voice maybe just a little too forceful. But he’d been trying to reinforce the idea into Jesse for weeks, and hated that this misunderstanding was circumventing that work. “I don’t think of you as an object. ‘Adoption’ has another meaning when it comes to people. It means that I...that I’m…” 

“My legal guardian,” Jesse said slowly, peeking up at him from his knees. His eyes were pinched with caution, something Jason was only just starting to see go away, and it hurt him. 

“...It would make us family,” Jason said, forcing his throat to work. “I’m sorry, I should have asked you first–you don’t–I just wanted–” Jesse was looking at him fully now, and Jason couldn’t read his face at all. He averted his gaze, holding out the contract again. It shivered a little in his grip. “It’s not complete without your signature of consent. I just want you to know that you have options. You don’t have to–” accept me. 

“Family?” Jesse asked. His voice was enigmatic, flat, and Jason flinched. “I don’t understand.” 

Jason worked his jaw for a few seconds, wondering where to begin. Jesse was a smart kid. Jason was positive he knew what the word ‘family’ meant academically. The phrase ‘I don’t understand’ was only used when he was afraid he was going to say the wrong thing, something that resulted in punishment for most of his life. Jason had to tread carefully whenever that happened, because if he ended up saying the wrong thing it could send Jesse into a detached state that made it difficult for Jason to reach him. He couldn’t afford that now. This was too important, and Jesse’s trust was starting to mean more to him than anything else ever had.

“It would mean we would live together. I would take care of you, provide for you, protect you from harm…” This was starting to sound more like a promise–a confession of Jason’s desires, ones that he was only just starting to realize he had–than an explanation, and the thought made Jason uncomfortable. But he soldiered on. “I would make sure you get an education, maybe one day give the shovel talk to someone you like,” he quirked a tremulous smile, but it didn't look like Jesse knew what a ‘shovel talk’ was, so the humor fell rather flat. Jason’s smile fell and he resisted the urge to mirror Jesse’s defensive position. Instead, he looked down at the ground, wondering if it would be so kind as to swallow him up. “Look, I know I’m not the most qualified to look after you, but–” No, no, this wasn’t about him. Jason’s eyes stung.

“So...you would be my family...like a father?” 

Jason visibly flinched and Jesse moved around, trying to catch his eye. “I...don’t think…”

“Brother, then?” Jesse’s voice was a little more present now, a little more curious, and Jason looked up cautiously, glad to see the tone reflected in his clear blue eye. 

He considered the question. Did he think of Jesse as a little brother? Brothers could be the caretakers of younger siblings if the parents were unfit, and could certainly love them just as fiercely. But...that didn’t really align with Jason’s feelings either. Not that what he thought mattered when Jesse was looking at him like that, as if hope were the sunrise over the mountain ranges that surrounded them. Hope also rose in Jason’s heart. Maybe this wasn’t as hopeless a situation as he thought? Jesse wasn’t looking repulsed at the idea, at least. “If you like,” he said slowly, but even he could hear the unsure waver of the words despite his best efforts. 

Jesse looked down at the paper again, thinking, and Jason waited in silence, heart thrumming thickly with nerves. But soon enough it was too much for him to take. “I-I know I’m not your first choice. I won’t be able to give you all the hugs you need and I suck at feelings and I can’t promise I’ll be any good at the whole ‘raising’ thing but–I’ll do my best to be there for you, and you won’t go hungry–” petty, that was petty, Jason’s eyes were filling with tears, so lame, “–and I won’t ask you to be obedient, we’ll always talk first and–I’ll do whatever it takes to find someone that will help you with your eye–”

“I think…” Jesse finally said, cutting off the word vomit. Jason’s jaw snapped shut and he scarcely breathed, unable to look Jesse in the face. Oh God, he wasn’t good enough, he wasn’t good enough–

More words burst out of Jason before he could stop them. “It’s okay, we can find another way, you don’t have to sign it–w-we can find your real family and I’ll make sure they won’t do anything to you before I l-leave–we can stay in touch, that is, if you want–but it’s okay if you don’t–”

“Jason.” 

Jason couldn’t see the ground anymore, the grey of the stone blending and blurring for some reason. Jesse stood in front of him now, but he didn’t want to see the rejection on his face. He was going to walk away from him, he just knew it. Just like she did. 

And Jason didn’t know if he had the strength to chase after him if that was truly what he wanted. He never did. 

Jesse crouched down, forcing Jason to look him in the face. Moving slowly, as if afraid to startle a skittish animal, Jesse reached out for Jason’s hand. When he didn’t flinch away, he took it between his small fingers and Jason stared down at the stark contrast of their skin tones, paper white against mocha. His phobia buzzed at the edge of his awareness, but he hardly paid attention to it. This would usually be too much, but it...wasn’t. He looked up into Jesse’s eyes finally, and realized that the boy had been just as careful with Jason as he’d been for Jesse this entire time. Jesse understood him, and it took Jason by surprise, steamrolled him and rearranged his insides, because he hadn’t noticed. In his efforts to be what Jesse needed, he hadn’t taken into account that Jesse might have been doing the exact same thing. It was remarkable, because it had taken Jason’s friends years to understand him enough to get this close. And yet, without Jason having to say a word about it, Jesse had done it in a matter of weeks, without any sort of slipups or unintentional triggers while Jason had stumbled along with Jesse and messed up so many times.

Jesse was amazing and Jason was a fuckup and  _ he didn’t deserve him. _

“I think I like ‘guardian’.” Jesse said matter-of-factly. Jason stared, gaping, and Jesse’s impassivity gave way to a smile, then a laugh at the dumbfounded expression.

“Shut up,” Jason grumbled, wiping at his face with his other hand, careful to use the back. It was clumsy, and he bumped his nose with probably more force than necessary, but he was too happy to worry about it, his heart swelling unbearably in his chest. He sniffed, willing himself not to break down and outright sob with relief. 

Jesse gasped, and Jason blinked questioningly. 

“Jason, your arm!”

“Oh,” Jason mumbled, looking down at his hand. “Yeah. So that happened.” He shifted and blushed as Jesse practically beamed at him, feeling shy after all the emotional turmoil. His son. Jesse agreed to be his  _ son. _ This was...monumental. Jason had never expected to be a fa–guardian in his life. Hadn’t expected to be able to get married, let alone have a family of his own. It had been nothing more than a pipe dream, something to imagine on late nights when his apartment felt all too empty, when he felt stifled by the silence. It may have been the worst possible way for them to come together, but Jason almost found himself glad that all of it had happened. Well, maybe not all of it, but how could he be anything but excited now that the worst had passed? 

Who cared about his dumb arm in the face of Jesse’s smile?

“I told you it would work,” he said gleefully, and Jason laughed thickly. 

“You did.” Carefully, he pulled his hand back, standing and wiping off his damp pants. “Let’s get back inside, okay? It’s frigid out here.” 

“Yes, I need to find a pen,” Jesse said, his face hardening into something like resolve and Jason’s heart clenched harshly in his chest, stopping his breath. This was happening. Really happening. 

Jesse hadn’t walked away.

Jason didn’t deserve him. 

“Yeah,” Jason choked around his smile. 

Jesse gave Jason a mischievous look, somehow reflected even in his false eye, and took off at a run. Jason laughed and stumbled after him, a little unbalanced as his body once again found its equilibrium with two working arms. Soon enough though, he was in hot pursuit, chasing after the husky giggles that echoed gayly in the stark halls of the empty building.

* * *

Jason carefully tucked his slumbering charge beneath the covers of their bed, swiping a gentle touch over the sheets to soothe his own nerves. The young boy slept soundly, face relaxed as he drifted through harmless dreams. Jason hoped they were good ones, ones that took him far away to a place where he was safe and loved. He almost envied Jesse the ease he’d found, but didn’t begrudge him it, not after the eventful day they’d had. 

With a lingering look, Jason left Jesse to rest, closing the door soflty behind him. With a dread filled heart, he lifted his phone and blinked into the stinging white light in the black hallway, dialing an unfortunately familiar number and holding it to his ear, dial tone just barely louder than the sickening pounding of his heart. 

“We need to talk,” Jason said as soon as the click in his ear confirmed that his father had answered the phone. 

He could almost hear the slow smile spreading over Matthew’s face, and closed his eyes as if he could physically block it out from his experience. Alas. With a thick swallow, Jason was sure the older man could hear, he opened his eyes and squared his shoulders. 

For Jesse. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for showing your support guys. Things are about to get hectic again for our boys, but they'll manage somehow. 
> 
> Any love you can send will make my motherfucking day, so please drop a line if you enjoyed :) Hell, you even getting this far is pretty awesome, considering this isn't even fanfiction and that's what you're here for haha. 
> 
> See you next time!


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